Where We Meet
by heartbeat311
Summary: Jon recreates Rorschach and sends him back to Earth, where he will meet a girl who seems to hold in her the power to help him bring Adrian to justice and save the world.
1. One

NOTE: This is a story set in present day. Jon brings Rorschach back to life and sends him to a corrupt world in which there is "more shadow than substance" in everyday life. There he must find his unlikely ally who will help him to bring Adrian- and a corrupt government- to justice.

1. Creation

It is almost time. The clocks are ticking, ticking, ticking life away, life, which is in my hands. The clocks down on Earth, the ones that show different times in different areas of the planet, and yet they all document the dying breaths of humanity. Five minutes.

I have never been closer than I am right now. I know this is the moment. The past few months of tireless creation, building up the atoms, making sure everything fit into their right places, like a jigsaw puzzle...everything was for this moment. Four minutes and twenty-two seconds.

Is this what it would have felt like, I wonder, when the Christian's God created the world out of light? When the Hinduist's Purusha was sacrificed to create the sky and the earth, the sun and the moon? When the Greek's Gaea emerged from the black emptiness of Chaos? Three minutes and fifty-five seconds.

No. I am indulging in meaningless fantasies. The human race's diverse approach to their own existance never fails to baffle me, and while I am fascinated with the reasons behind their strange and wonderful stories, it is also equally not important. Three minutes and fourteen seconds.

The form under my hands is finally taking shape. The atoms buzz under my fingertips, the cell strata glowing in little bursts of blue light. The air around me shimmers and pulses with electricity, warm for once. Two minutes and thirty-five seconds.

It is symmetrical. I wonder at its beauty as it morphs and curls in on itself, then flowers out and furls in again. It is becoming solid. The fluctuations are slowing, the light growing dimmer. Two minutes exactly.

I have hardly known life to be this breathtaking. More than the mountains behind me, more than the vast, red deserts around me, more than the cold, glittering stars above me, this new life is beautiful. I have made it out of these very mountains, the deserts, the stars though, of course, we are all, in the end, the children of stars. One minute and five seconds.

In a matter of weeks, there will be a meeting. I see them now, their eyes alight with recognition, their actions wary. They speak with words that bring about deja vu, nearly formless echoes of a past that has yet to come for one of them, and a future that one could argue doesn't exist for the other. Twenty-seven seconds.

Nothing ends. Nothing ever ends. There was a time when I thought life might end. I think everyone thought that at the time. But this universe is vast, just a great, endless ocean, in which we are forever swaying on the waves, tossed and turned by eternity. There will always be life. Whether in the greatest man on Earth or the smallest molecule on Mars. Humans are arrogant to assume that Earth is the only planet with living organisms on it. Five seconds.

Four...

Three...

Two...

One...

This moment lives forever in time and space. It is a fingerprint, a small _blip _on the universe's radar, that will inevitably echo through eternity.

I am proud. I haven't felt pride in a very long time. It is vague and blurry, almost like trying to read print on a newspaper that has sat and withered for fifty years under a coffee table.

He stands there, breathing in the small bubble of oxygen I have created for him, breathing and glaring at me with eyes I have never forgotten. Eyes that stared balefully at me in a snowbound world. Ice blue trapped in a vortex of snow-cold white.

In the small space between us, I can feel his heartbeat. It is warm and so very vital. I can almost touch it.

"What...what am I doing here?" he finally demands, sounding breathless, as though his lungs can't master the constant influx of air yet. I wonder briefly if I haven't made him strong enough, but his heartbeat is strong and steady, pounding effortlessly in his chest, and I know that he will manage.

"You are alive," I tell him.

He glares at me; there is distrust in his eyes. "I can see that," he snaps impatiently. "Why am I here? What is this? Why do you look familiar?" He assaults me with questions. His personality is much the same and yet... In a matter of minutes, he will put on a mask. Three hours later, he will take it off. His personality differs considering these factors, his actions and reactions changing depending on the face he is wearing.

In making him, I had hoped to make him as much like his old self as possible. But, in making the separation between his personas I might have made it more distinct than before. Hmm. A small mistake, a slip on my part... But then, there are no mistakes. This was supposed to happen. An inconsequential slip.

"You are here because I created you. You are on Mars but in five minutes and thirty-three seconds you will be on Earth. I look familiar because you once knew me," I answer, following the guidance of the puppet strings. Talking to them is much more difficult than they make it look...

Then again, he isn't totally human.

His brows pull together in puzzlement. I watch the tiny muscles in his face work like they should and the dusty pride comes back. "How did I know you before? Who are you?"

"They call me Dr. Manhattan. You existed before this, but I had to destroy you in 1985. Now you must return to Earth," I tell him.

He will not have memories, not of his former life. Not until he is meant to remember. But perhaps a few hints will be necessary. He is still new, fresh, like candle wax that has just started to cool. My imprint has not left him. I still have some access to his being. Reaching out, I tap into his mind. It is like a highly sophisticated labyrinth, with doorways that lead to chambers I can't even delve into. Still, I can hand him the keys to unlock the doors.

He feels me in his mind. He lets out a low growl deep within his chest and it is almost inhuman. And then he blinks, startled, as a few memories start to leak out, slowly dripping down, like liquid visions of a past that has been barred from him.

I watch him, analyzing the expressions that cross his face. Shock. Recognition. Sorrow. Anger. Pain.

And then his teeth come together with a loud snap, rattling his jaws. His blue eyes blaze with a fire I recognize from his former life. "Veidt," he snarls. He spits the name out like it's dirty, like it's something he'd rather not have to say. The hatred that pulses from him is familiar.

He looks up at me, eyes still smoldering with rage, and asks, "What happened after you killed me?" So blunt. Not like other humans, who feel they need to be polite, who feel everyone's feelings must be accounted for, who feel they must check their words before they say them so as not to offend others. This one is different.

"Adrian succeeded in his plan for a global utopia. Individual countries have formed governments akin to socialism and elite powers are discussing plans for a world government," I tell him.

The rage in his eyes grows, building up into an inferno that threatens to swallow everything combustible. His voice when he next speaks, however, is quiet. "No one trying to stop him?"

Clipped sentences. He has become the other person. I take a moment to wonder at this anomaly, that he can switch from one dominant personality to another, both ruling over the same body at the same time, battling for power. A constant struggle rages inside of him. I have sensed this before in his other life. But then, it had been obvious which personality had ruled him, his thoughts, actions, responses- this person glaring at me now had. The other person had been eaten up, swallowed by the fire in this person's eyes.

Now, the two personalities live inside of him at the same time, constantly struggling to obtain complete control of their host.

"That's why I am sending you to Earth," I explain. No more than a second has passed while I've considered the demons battling inside him. "There is someone you must find, someone important to the future of your home planet. Your pathway has been laid out for you. Now it is time to start walking."

He stares at me, the fire still burning in the depths of his gaze, yet shadowed by something else. Uncertainty, distrust. This does not surprise me. "You will need clothes before you return," I tell him.

He looks startled, as though he hasn't noticed until now that he is naked. A red flush creeps into his face. I study this curiously. It has long puzzled me why humans are so uncomfortable with nudity. They are born naked; I recreated myself naked. Maybe it is something I will never fully understand.

At my side, I form his clothes. These are easy now, these inanimate objects. Child's play. I have created life. I can only move forward from here.

He snatches his clothes from me and quickly pulls them on. When he turns to me, his expression is impatient. "Well?"

"There is one more thing you will need, but you must be careful when you use it," I warn him; I feel it's only fair. In some ways, I feel responsible for him now. It is irrational and serves me no purpose, but...he is my creation.

I hand him the mask. It is still, the black splotches waiting for the heat of their owner to warm them, get them flowing again. He stares at it, blinking in amazement, as though he has just been reunited with a long lost friend. After a brief pause, he slips it on and his blue eyes disappear. "Why should I be careful when I wear it?" he challenges.

"You are supposed to be dead," I reply immediately.

He seems to flinch slightly at my words. I feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest. He lifts his hands up to look at them; I see them tremble just slightly. "I'm supposed to be dead," he repeats in a low voice.

Fifteen seconds. Time is running out. The puppet strings are pulling at me, moving my mouth, telling me what to say.

"Remember," I tell him. "You search for the one who stands alone."

Then, in a flash of blue light, he disappears.

~ Okay, so. I understand this may have been a bit slow, but I promise it will pick up. I hope against all hope that this isn't stupid or anything. Suggestions and _helpful _criticism are welcome, flames just make me laugh. Oh, and just to let you know in case you didn't figure it out, Rorschach will be Rorschach with his mask on, Walter will be Walter when its off. If that makes sense...well, in any case, you can read to find out more if I just sound like I'm babbling. :) Please, reviews are wonderful because I would like to know if I should continue. Thanks.


	2. Two

NOTE: Introductory chapter. Might be a bit boring, sorry. Will pick up soon.

2. This New World (Order)

_**Rorschach**_

Night is dark. No moon. A few pale dots in sky- stars. City lights drown out the rest. Where am I? Place is vaguely familiar. Not like somewhere I've been exactly, just...familiar.

Am on a bridge. City I'm in split in two by river beneath. Water flows and tumbles beneath me like ink in blackness. Air is cold. Pull coat closer to me, shiver and wish I knew where to go.

_Your pathway has been laid out for you. Now it is time to start walking. _Manhattan's words echo in my head, spur me on. Start walking. Cold blackness surrounds me, seeps through skin into bones beneath.

Mind wanders, tries to find answers, but questions are endless. Memory is like recurring nightmare. Keeps coming back like stray cat that's been fed too many times by same person; freeloader, thinks it can walk where it pleases. Frustrating.

Even now, it returns. Images of snow, white, cold...

_"Out of my way. People have to be told." Behind me, hear someone at door, following. Don't turn around. Can't..._

_"You know I can't let you do that." Manhattan looks at me, starry eyes like cold, empty vortexes. Like Antarctica around me. Doesn't care. Doesn't care about world. _

_"Suddenly you discover humanity. Convenient." Still staring at me, waiting. Both of us, waiting. Waiting for the end... I reach up, peel off my face. He will not kill Rorschach. He will kill Walter. Walter is dispensable. Walter can be sacrificed._

_But he will win if he kills Rorschach._

_"If you'd cared from the start, none of this would have happened." He should know. He needs to know what he's done. Hope he remembers. Hope he remembers the blood on his hands._

_"I can change almost anything," he says. "But I can't change human nature."_

_Excuses. Can't own up to anything. Cowardly. "Of course you must protect Veidt's new utopia. What's one more body amongst foundations?" He watches me. I stare back, accepting my fate. Embracing it. "Well what are you waiting for? Do it." _

_He doesn't move. Tries to make his expression regretful. Why doesn't he do it? _"Do it!" _I scream._ _And then..._

Hurm. Memory stops there. Puzzling. If Manhattan wanted me to have memory, why did he just give me small piece? And why does it feel altered, like something's missing? So many questions.

Have reached city now, south side of river. Appears quiet on outside but instinct tells me it's just a mask, cleverly woven to trick people into letting down guard, into becoming soft. Do not remember where I lived before this life, but remember it taught me to trust instincts.

City lights illuminate, shadows hide from light like roaches scuttling back into safety of blackness. This is familiar, instinct formed from experience. Shadows hold secrets, etched into social psyche- when others avoid shadowed spaces, I step into them.

Alleyway up ahead. It beckons. I answer its call.

Feels like I'm expecting someone. No one's there. But alley is warmer and I welcome it. Crouch down among shadows and let them cover me like menacing blanket. Am tired, body still feels strange since return from... Hurm. Don't know where Manhattan created me...

Doesn't matter. Tired, need sleep. Will think about it in morning.

Take off mask before lying down. People think I'm dead. Can't let them see my real face.

The sun wakes me up in the morning, accompanied by the murmurs of early-risers. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I sit up from under the cardboard I've pulled over myself to keep in the warmth of my body heat.

This is uncomfortable. It's too bright and I'm too...exposed. Without really thinking about it, I hastily reach for the mask and slip it on.

Instantly, I feel better. Thoughts are clearing, discomfort fading... But, can't show face in public. Reluctantly, pull it off. Clarity disappears, the light becomes brighter... I sigh and stand up, shoving the mask in my coat pocket.

Time to start walking.

I start by exploring this new city, mapping out streets in my mind. I dig a newspaper out of the trash to find out the place and time. The date on the paper says January 28th, 2010, but its from yesterday so it's January 29th. Also says I am in Lawrence, Kansas. Kansas? Why Kansas? I still can't remember where I was in my last life, but it wasn't Kansas.

People bustle past on the sidewalk, ignoring me, looking past me. They are talking on phones, but the phones are so small. Some of them are holding what look like tiny metallic remotes and they have wires sticking out of them that go into their ears. Music device of some sort I expect?

This new world is so daunting, so dazzling in its strangeness. Yet there are still things I recognize. Newspaper stands- though no venders. Stores and restaraunts seem to have stayed the same. This city is much smaller than where I was before. Streets are less crowded but...it feels like the people aren't really there.

I don't remember, but I know...I know that I've known people to be detached, uncaring, too selfish to see anything past the point of their own existances. But these people...they are mindless, wrapped up in their strange music devices and alien phones. Hurm. Something is going on here.

Instantly, almost like a reflex, Veidt jumps into my mind. Of course. He must have something to do with this.

_Adrian succeeded in his plan for a global utopia. Individual countries have formed governments akin to socialism and elite powers are discussing plans for a world government..._

Veidt has ruined this country. He is ruining the world. This world government...he will do everything he can to make it happen.

No. It can't happen. It won't.

I won't let it.

_**Jon**_

I have left a note for him to read in the pocket of his trenchcoat. He hasn't found it yet. In less than five hours he will.

In three days, they will meet.

Soon, they will be dancing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read and review cuz it keeps this author writing!


	3. Three

3. Cast a Spell

_**Rorschach**_

_Your name is Walter Kovacs. Your vigilante alias is Rorschach. Your memories will come to you in small increments, not all at once. In the day, you will learn all you can of Veidt and the government. At night, you will patrol as your vigilante self. But you must be selective. There will be some who may look like criminals, but who are not. Remember: sometimes it's easier to see with your eyes closed._

_- Jon_

This is the third time I've read through Manhattan's note in the last hour. I'm trying to understand, trying to read more into Manhattan's mysterious parting line, but I can't figure it out.

Why does he have to speak in cryptic little prophecies? Why can't he just come out and say what he needs to say?

Frustrated, I fold up the note and stuff it in my pocket. The sun has almost sunk in the western horizon. This is my second night in this new world and I feel lost. I wish Manhattan could have given me more information, not these tantalizing little tidbits.

But at least now I know. I know who I was before, or at least I know my name. And that I was a vigilante. I don't remember being Rorschach yet, but it doesn't really surprise me; Manhattan said it wouldn't come back all at once. But it's almost as though I can nearly remember, that it's nearly there, just waiting to be revealed, hiding behind a dark shroud of mist...

_At night, you will patrol as your vigilante self..._

It is nearly night. Sighing, I reach into my pocket, pull out my mask and put it on. Instantly, my mind clears. The helplessness I've felt all day, the confusion, everything... disappears.

Am Rorschach now. No confusion. No fear. Clarity. Clarity like ice cold rain falling on my face.

My face. Filters out gray, fuzziness that muddles the mind. Helps me to see.

Don't know where I'm going. Set out through the darkening streets with fresh air in lungs and coolness in veins. Above, clouds obscure moon. Light disappears. Am thankful. Don't need the light, don't want it. Darkness covers me like shroud and I still see. No one sees me.

The shadows are my only friends here.

Walk the streets for two hours. City hear is quiet, but can tell...something lurks beneath surface. Get the impression that city was once more peace than violence. But undercurrent of something bubbling underneath, violence growing, flames beneath a cauldron we are all trapped inside.

People in this city, they are sheep. Quiet, they are herded into obedience. Have learned this much in time spent here. Do not know specifics yet, but know it all leads back to Veidt and this one world government. Years have passed since Veidt's silent takeover, humans transformed into sheep out of fear and uncertainty.

Something has disturbed the herd.

Suddenly, scream interrupts thoughts. Quicken pace, approach scream. In black sidestreet, three figures tangle together in shadowed combat. Through darkness, see that two of them are cops. The other is a woman.

Quickly, take in rest of the scene. Can of spraypaint lying in snow near them. Woman struggles to free herself, manages to pull switchblade from pocket. Cop on the left siezes it, breaks her wrist. Woman's cry of pain pierces into the silence of the night, cuts through me like knife. Something is wrong about this.

Before me, cop on the right pulls out some small object. Cords shoot out, attach to woman's neck, blue sparks erupting from where they touch her skin. Woman collapses, convulsing as though electrocuted.

I don't hesitate. March over to cops to intervene. They don't see me coming. Take out the one with the strange device first. Hit him in the jaw so hard with fist that shock of pain runs up arm. Cop stumbles backward, falls to ground as blood splatters warmly on my face. Other cop turns to me, raises hand; there is a gun in it.

Act quickly, duck and come in from side, slamming fist down on cop's wrist, breaking it on impact. Shouts in pain, doubles over, holding snapped arm.

I turn to woman, who is lying still on ground. Eyes wide open. Bright red welts like cherries on neck. Shallow breathing, rasping in and out. Behind me, hear second cop take step in my direction. Swing around, arm oustretched, and catch him in the neck. Flips over from impact, landing on back with hard crack.

Other cop trying to get up. Take a step toward him. His eyes widen, meet mine; fill with fear and horrible kind of awe, the kind of awe one feels when struck by spell of harbinger of death.

Will kill him, too. Except he runs away. Coward. Won't pursue. Have better things to do.

Turn back to woman. Breathing is shallower, hoarse little rasps that rattle through lips stained with blood. For the first time since putting on face, I hesitate. Insides screaming at me to take a step back, away from this woman with the blonde hair and the angular, whorish face and whore's body. To turn away and leave any other human contact behind besides brutality.

But she is dying. Can't leave her in cold without attempting to help.

Pick up woman in arms, holding her away from myself as much as possible. Carry her down the street, through the darkness. Spent the day exploring the city- know where hospital is and will take her there.

Am almost there when I realize- people at the hospital. People can't see my face. Irritation sizzles through me, sparks to temper the coolness. Wish I could just leave face on. Am more comfortable, more confident, wearing my real face.

But Manhattan said not to show face. So I won't. Have trusted him so far. Will trust him until he gives me a reason not to.

A few feet from hospital, hide in shadows and pull off face. Immediately, feel naked. Woman in my arms becomes heavier, heavier, more real...

My heart is pounding in my chest. I stare down at the woman in my arms with something close to fear. I have the sudden, nearly unbearable urge to drop her; my trembling arms nearly obey. She is too close, too soft and distinctly feminine. I am _holding _her.

But reason returns after a few heartbeats. She is hurt, dying, while I stand here staring. She isn't even conscious- what can she do to me?

Pushing past the anxiety, I head out of the shadows and take the last few steps to the hospital doors. I deposit the woman quietly, answering questions when directly asked and then slipping away when nobody's watching.

Outside, I let the cold, sharp air wash through my lungs, clear my head. It's almost like putting on the mask. Almost. Above my head, snow begins to fall, little flecks of white that drift gently through the night, illuminated by the city lights and cutting through the dark.

And it's still nighttime. I reach into my pocket and put on my mask, let it wash coolly through me like water, like cold winter air.

Turn away from hospital and don't look back.

_**Rylie**_

_"Ignorance pulls/Apostasy and apathy still rules/Yeah, you know it's cool." _I murmur the lyrics to "Futurism" lightly under my breath as I trudge through the snow. I ignore the cars to my left, held at a standstill in the crowded street. I always hate this part of the day. I hate walking past the cars, I hate feeling like I have an audience.

That's why I wear my headphones and turn the music up loud. I've had too many assholes lean out their windows and shout crude things at me.

The Muse song is drawing to a close, so I unlock my ipod and search for another song. When I come to another Muse song ("Take a Bow", AKA: my favorite song ever)I press play and turn the volume up full blast.

In the next second, I have collided with something that feels like a brick wall clothed in a leather jacket. I gasp and stumble backwards, my headphones sliding down onto my shoulders from the impact. I feel heat instantly rush up and color my cheeks.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I gasp, embarrassed, and examine this brick wall that has suddenly appeared in front of me.

He isn't very tall. In fact, he's only a few inches taller than me, which means he must be about 5'6" or 5'7". He is dressed in a brown leather trenchcoat and...oh my God, are those _purple _pants? Dude. Badass.

His face is hard, with sharp features and angles; there is five o'clock shadow on his freckled cheekbones. His hair is a startlingly fiery shade of red. But what I notice most of all, what has me staring like an utter fool, transfixed as though I've frozen right where I'm standing, are his eyes. They are bright, piercing, ice blue and they have speared me to the spot. From the headphones resting around my neck, the lyrics of "Take a Bow" pour out: _"And spell, cast a spell..." _

As I stare into them (and I'm vaguely aware that my mouth is hanging open like some idiot)a shiver of very distinct deja vu washes over me, chilling me. I have turned to him and there are tears blinding me. It is cold wherever we are, cold on both the inside and the outside. The dread inside of me is tempered by a fierce joy- he is not leaving without me. Not this time.

And as suddenly as it comes, it fades and I am left blinking at the man in front of me. _What the hell was that? _I wonder, closing my mouth. My heart is fluttering in my chest and there are goosebumps on my skin.

"Uhm...s-sorry, sorry," I mutter breathlessly, my voice growing quieter, meeker, as I finally tear my gaze away from his and step aside to let him pass. The embarrassment grows, filling me up like a terrible fire. And not only have I embarrassed myself in front of this curious stranger, but I have embarrassed myself in front of my audience. Great.

But he doesn't move for a moment. After a heartbeat, I look up tentatively and see that he is blinking at me. The expression on his face is strange, unexpected- it is a mixture of shock, confusion, and frustration.

The awkwardness grows. I wonder if I should just walk away. Then finally he growls in a low, gruff voice, "It's usually better to look where you're going."

Oh, yeah, that helps with the embarrassment. Thanks, brick wall. "Yeah, um, sorry," I murmur, blushing furiously.

He raises an eyebrow. "You've said that four times now," he says and then, after a second, adds, "And I accept." I can't tell if he's teasing or not. Both his expression and his voice give nothing away.

"Um, well, uh...good," I say lamely. Inside, I'm screaming at myself. Why am I so flustered? I mean, sure, I've never been good at talking to people I don't know, but _come on! _This is pathetic.

He watches me, as if waiting for me to say something else. But what else is there to say? I'm just some clumsy idiot who can't talk. After another brief moment of awkwardness he walks away without another word. I watch him go for a heartbeat and then turn, too, and walk away.

I was planning on walking to Hastings, but instead I just stop at Wendy's, which is much closer. It takes me a moment to realize, as I set my backpack down on my usual table in the corner by the window, that I am shaking. And it's not from the cold.

I sit down and stare out the window and think about that man with the fire hair and the purple pants and his unbelievable eyes. I think about the deja vu moment that seemed so much like a memory but couldn't possibly be. I think about running into my brick wall with "Take a Bow" playing in the background.

Why do I know him?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hmmm. Don't really know what to say...there's not really much to say...rambling...rambling... Anyway. Hope you liked it, please read and review. Good day to you all. ;)


	4. Four

4. In the Search For Answers (Sometimes There Are Roadbumps)

_**Rorschach**_

It is snowing. It drifts down softly, gently, and the world around me lies in a muffled, eerie calm. The muted air feels soft and heavy, like a down blanket enveloping me. I am on the corner of 21st and Louisiana, near the high school, and I know why I'm here.

I know it but I don't like it.

Reluctantly, I let my mind pass over the last meeting with the girl. I had been walking down the sidewalk opposite the one I'm pacing on now, my thoughts wrapped up in Manhattan's clever, prophetic words, trying to figure them out. The girl had been listening to what I've now learned is called an ipod. Neither of us had been paying attention.

When I'd met her gaze, I'd seen something in her stormy blue eyes, something familiar. In my mind's eye, I had been transported to another place, another time. The girl had been there, too, panting and looking at me with a steely glint to her eyes, crouched on the sidewalk in front of me. She had said something...but the deja vu had ended there, leaving me in the present time with the clumsy girl who had run into me.

I knew her. I _know _her. My instincts are screaming at me that this girl has something to do with both my past and my future.

And this is the reason I don't like this- she is a _girl. _Soft, feminine, sinful. Granted, she doesn't exactly look like a whore- she has plain brown hair and those blue eyes and a round, soft face- no hard angles or cunning eyes that cut like knives through flesh. She must be seventeen or eighteen years old- probably still too young to register much of the world.

But...a girl?

_Maybe she's just a normal girl. Maybe she just reminds you of someone else, _I attempt to reason with myself.

But the reasoning sounds feeble, even to me.

Sighing in frustration, I try to take my mind off of the girl and think of other things. It's been seven days since Manhattan transferred me here (four days since meeting the girl), and I've gained some information from observing Lawrence's citizens and reading the newspaper. But nothing incredibly substantial.

Money hasn't really been an issue, though I can't afford a place to stay yet and there's no jobs for me to apply for since, apparently, this country is going through a recession(not that I could keep one even if I wanted to, what with the reconnaissance and the patrolling and the fact that I have no record with which to provide an employer). I have been stealing money from the criminals I've been busting at night, and it sustains me enough to get food and a newspaper each day.

But I'm not here for money and I'm not here to be sustained. I'm here for information and I'm here to stop this one world government. To bring Adrian Veidt to justice.

_But I can't do that without answers to all of these questions! _I think in frustration. As I wait on the sidewalk, I shove my hand into my coat pocket and reach for the crumpled up letter from Manhattan.

I pause, puzzled, when my fingertips touch an unwrinkled smoothness. Pulling it out, I see that it is another piece of paper, folded in half. Eagerly, I open it and begin to read.

_It is becoming easier for me to send things to you without attracting too much attention, using too much power than necessary. The governments of the world have set up radar in order to track my energy signature- it is a good thing my energy is too faint in you to detect while you're on Earth. Then again they are expecting my energy signature in places like New York or Los Angeles, not Lawrence, Kansas. But I'm getting off topic. What I sent this letter to you for was to tell you that sometimes experience misguides us, and to remind you to trust your instincts. Sometimes emotion is a better truth-teller than reason. _

_- Jon_

_(And another thing: you are 20 years old)_

Another riddle. And why tell me my age? What does that matter? I have an urge to tear the letter into pieces, but that will not solve anything. Besides, the students from the high school have started to flood out of the doors; soon I will see the girl.

It is becoming almost too easy to pick her out of the crowd now. For the past four days after meeting her, I have watched her, looking for signs that she is connected to my past, trying to trigger the deja vu again. So far, I haven't had anymore "memories", but I have learned a lot just by seeing her walk.

She doesn't like attention. She walks with her head down, always wearing her headphones, absorbed in the music. She averts her eyes from people driving by on the street, and yet she looks up and smiles at people who walk past her. Most often they don't smile back, but she never fails to smile at them everytime. Hurm. Why?

She walks with quick, precise strides, as though she has a purpose she's marching toward, as though she doesn't want to slow down until she reaches her destination. Quite often, she stops at three different places, if not all in the same day- the fast-food restaraunt, Wendy's; Half-Price Bookstore; and a book/movie/music store called Hastings. I don't know what she does in those places- I've never followed her inside- but I can tell by her walk that she does _something _besides searching for books everyday.

Today, I want to find out. I don't know how, but something tells me that whatever she's doing has something to do with my mission. She holds answers. I need answers. Today, I will follow her into whatever store she stops at and hopefully figure out what she's doing.

And here she is now. I see her across the street, hands in the pockets of her black coat, headphones on, eyes on the ground. Narrowing my eyes, I follow her along the opposite sidewalk, keeping a safe distance behind her so she won't notice me as easily.

She doesn't cross the street to get to Wendy's like she usually does; so she's going to Hastings today. Hurm. It takes me a few minutes to get across to the sidewalk opposite hers, and by the time I'm there she's already just a little figure in the distance. She's fast, in a hurry. Like everyone here. Everyone's in a hurry, but in a different way.

She walks through the snow and the cold when nobody else is willing to. She is different from everyone else here. Nobody else wants to deal with reality. Nobody else wants to deal with the cold.

This girl is different. She has a purpose.

When she gets to Hastings, the snow has increased; the flakes have become big, fat, fluffy, filling up the air. Although I have planned this, I hesitate before walking inside. What if I'm just letting my imagination get the better of me? What if there is really nothing special to this girl, and I'm just following her like a weird old stranger?

_Trust your instincts... _The line from Manhattan's letter comes back to me then, reminding me, and, stifling a sigh, I push the door open and step inside. It's warm and smells like books and coffee inside. The girl is standing by a table a few feet away, looking down at the books stacked there. Quickly, not wanting her to see me, I dart into the magazine aisle.

Peering out from behind the shelf, I see her start to pick up some of the books. She doesn't read the summaries on the back, just picks them up and flips through them quickly. Sometimes she smiles, sometimes she grimaces. Hurm. Why?

After a while, she picks up some of the books from the tables labeled "best-sellers" and "50% off" and then carries them away. Trying to look nonchalant, I follow her to a small sitting area in a secluded corner near the health books. There are two chairs there and a table, and I blink, feeling an odd urge to sit next to her. To sit there next to her and ask her questions and see what she's like. She is so different...

I blink, shocked at myself, and shake my head angrily to refocus. She is pulling out a notebook from her backpack, pulling out loose-leaf paper filled with writing. I strain my eyes but I can't read what the papers say. As I watch, she takes the papers and starts folding them precisely and then tearing them down the crease. Once she has a sufficient stack of these, she casually starts to slip them into the books she's gathered.

Suddenly, I understand. Earlier, when she'd been flipping through the books up front- she had been checking to see if her notes were still there! But what do her notes say? Quietly, I slip away and head back to the front to investigate.

It takes me a few moments to find one of her notes, but when I do, I take the book to a deserted aisle to read what the note says. She was slipping these notes discreetly into books, sitting in a place where there were no cameras. Obviously she doesn't want anyone who works here to know what she's doing, and I'm not about to give her secret away, either.

When I pull the note out, I notice that my fingers are shaking, which leads me to realize that my heart is pounding in my chest excitedly. This is the moment. This is the moment I find out why she feels so important to me.

Her handwriting is beautiful and smooth. The words almost seem to flow through me as I read them, though the content is anything but relaxing:

_Dear reader, _

_Our constitutional rights and freedoms are being taken away from us by our tyrannous government. It is time to stand up and take back this country! Please look up "Infowars" or "Prisonplanet" on the internet for more information, then put this paper in another book for someone else to find._

_"Don't be afraid of what your mind conceives/You should make a stand/Stand up for what you believe." - Muse (AKA modern day patriots of the arts)_

_Good luck and God bless, _

And then...

Oh.

My breathing catches in my throat. My heart stutters in my chest. The way she signs her papers, the way she writes "Resistance Movement" on the side...

She uses the double-R insignia...Rorschach...

Me.

_**Rylie**_

So, I'm pretty satisfied with today's work. I've managed to slip all of my pre-written notes into books, and now I'm sitting down to write out some more. And my mom isn't even off work yet.

Yeah. I'm good.

Plus, some of the notes that I'd put in books before are gone, so either people found the notes while they were in here and followed my instructions by putting the note in another book, or they bought the book itself. My information is getting out there. I just hope people are actually listening.

I have just finished signing a third note with the Rorschach symbol when my mom calls to tell me that she's outside. With a sigh, I get up, gather my stuff, and head outside. The snow has stopped but I can't help holding on to the hope that it will start up again so maybe I'll have a snow day tomorrow.

When I get home, I wish that I could just relax or go outside and enjoy the snow, but I have work to do. My mom is a self-employed "caretaker" (as in she sees a stray and takes it in without question). So, she's dragged me down with her on this little road of hers. So far, we have eleven cats, two dogs, three sparrows and counting (since one of the cats is pregnant)- and this is a low point for us. Usually we hover around twenty-five animals, and the only way we can sustain such a large grouping of hobo animals is because we live out in the country. There's plenty of room for all of these strays out here.

My schedule each day is usually as follows: get home, help my mom fix dinner and get things ready for my dad, eat dinner, feed the animals and clean out their cages and litterboxes, hurry and get my homework done, take a shower, and then get to bed. Yes, I'm sure it could be worse, but it still sucks.

However, tonight, once all of my chores are done and I've laid down in bed, I can't sleep. Usually I'm pretty tired by now, but tonight I'm just restless. By midnight, I'm still not asleep so I get up to check Infowars on my laptop.

But it's not Infowars that comes up. The screen dissolves to blackness before my eyes, and at first I think it must not be charged. But then, the blackness starts to swirl, slowly at first, and then faster, revealing whiteness beneath. I watch, transfixed, at the swirling black-and-white symmetrical patterns on the screen.

And then I'm aware of someone behind me. He doesn't speak, but I know he's there. A deep sense of sorrow, piercing and breathtaking, sweeps over me.

"I thought it wasn't going to be this way," I say to him accusingly without turning around.

"I'm sorry," he replies, and his voice is sad but calm. Accepting.

_No! _It feels like every cell in my body, my very soul, is screaming. Tears sting my eyes and blind me, start to fall down my face.

He comes up behind me, pressing close to me comfortingly. He twines his fingers with mine and leans to rest his lips on my neck. His warm breath tickles my ear as he whispers, "No tears."

"I'm human, you know," I retort, although I wipe my eyes. "I _do _cry."

But he shakes his head and, although I don't look over at him I know he's smiling slightly. "We are the people without tears," he reminds me.

And I wake up. Disoriented, I shake my head, heart pounding in my chest, and check my cell phone for the time. 3:21. Two hours until my alarm will go off. And yet I feel like I haven't slept at all. _Man, I can't even remember falling asleep, _I think and then shiver, remembering the pain, the absolute sorrow, I had felt in my dream.

And the man. The man I'd felt I'd known, yet couldn't remember now. Frustrated, I fall back against my pillow and hold my head, trying to calm myself and maybe get some more sleep before my alarm goes off.

_**Adrian**_

Almost there, almost there... My fingertips fly across the keyboard. Sweat trickles down my neck and my heart pounds with excitement. Perhaps it is ridiculous to get so excited over my work, especially when this is just the rough draft.

But I can't help it. We are so close...

So close to immortality.

Pausing very briefly in my heated rhythm, I lift my cup of coffee to my lips and take a sip.

"Mr. Veidt?"

I feel a brief flare of anger. _Oh, Jennifer, can't it wait?_

But the anger only lasts a second. Swallowing my irritation with my coffee, I look up at my assistant, who is standing nervously in the doorway. I paste a warm smile on my face; it feels so fake but I doubt she notices.

I'm a good liar.

"Yes, Jennifer? What is it?" I ask, making my voice gentle, smooth.

"Ms. Napolitano is here," Jennifer tells me, relaxing slightly at my sweetened tone, believing that she hasn't interrupted me.

"Ah. Bring her in," I encourage, although there is a feeling of apprehension in my stomach. Lately, when Homeland Security is involved, it usually means the silencing of protestors. Not that they don't need to be controlled, but I hate taking part in stripping them of their freedoms.

Still, it's for the best. They just don't know it yet. When all of this is over and my work is complete, they will understand and be grateful.

We wait until Jennifer leaves to start talking. It's better that she doesn't hear anything she shouldn't. I don't want to have to kill her. She's a Usweet girl.

"Adrian, there's something you should know," Janet begins. No precursor. This must be serious.

I furrow my brows, watching her catiously. "What is it?" I ask slowly.

"We've recently received a report that Dr. Manhattan's energy signature was detected a week ago."

Shock punches into me and my head reels. "Why did nobody tell me sooner?" I demand, barely concealing my fury.

It's even harder to push back the anger than before because I can't help being angry that I'm angry. This is trivial and my plan is foolproof; Jon cannot stop me. Nobody can. It is a bump in the road, sure, but nothing I haven't planned for. And yet, I feel as though I'm just barely in control of my reaction, the irrational anger and brief heartbeat of anxiety. This has been happening more often lately, this steady decline in emotional control.

They say there are side effects to the pills I'm taking. But I can't stop. They help my research; I have found a way to be my own guinea pig.

"I'm sorry, but we decided to keep it from you until we were absolutely sure it was him," Janet explains, all-business.

I sigh and push down the remaining anger, regain control. "Where did you detect his pulse?" I inquire patiently.

Janet meets my gaze sharply. "Lawrence, Kansas," she responds meaningfully.

"Ah." It makes sense. Jon wouldn't risk coming to any place that we would monitor, like New York. But he would come to a place where there was a significant ally to our cause. I can't help but smile slightly, remembering when we would work together, allies ourselves. It's a shame that he has to be my enemy.

"What do you suggest we do?" Janet asks and I raise my eyebrows, my eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"You're the secretary for Homeland Security. You tell me," I reply.

"Yes, but you're the expert on Doctor Manhattan. You knew him well, you worked with him. You might be the one who knows what he's up to," Janet explains.

I think about this for a moment, considering Jon, considering the situation. I'm not prepared to risk my plan and my research, but Jon was once my friend. "For now, we'll just keep a close eye on Lawrence, monitor the situation, get some eyes and ears into that town. Once we have more information, we'll act," I decide.

Janet nods and then smiles. "We're very close, Adrian, aren't we?" she says. There is a glint in her eyes, and it looks dangerous. I'm suddenly reminded of a snake, poised for the kill.

But I have worked with snakes before. And they are not so poisonous as their enemies. A snake's venom can work for good as long as it is channeled correctly. And I will channel it toward those who threaten our work, toward the truly poisonous ideas of our opposition.

I smile at her and dip my head in agreement. "Closer than we've ever been," I assure her, and when she leaves I sit down at my desk and continue with my work.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so we start to learn more about this Rylie character, and we see what Adrian's up to. Just wanted to say that, in the second chapter, there is a correction (that I can't make because for some reason the site won't let me...): the date that Rorschach reads in the newspaper should read 2011, not 2010. Sorry bout that :) And, in the last chapter, I mentioned some songs that Rylie listens to. Usually when there's a song in a chapter, it's best to listen to it because it usually applies to the chapter and the entire story. You don't have to, of course, but I recommend it (plus they're awesome songs ;) . ) Um, anyway. Suppose that's it. Please read and review.


	5. Five

NOTE: Just wanted to say that I would appreciate it if you would read the note at the end. (Yes, I made a note to tell you about a note...I am a dork. I accept that.)

5. I'd Do Anything to Avoid Awkward Silences (But I Guess I'm Just Not Lucky)

_**Rylie**_

"Hey! Hey, Rylie!"

Hiding a smile, I turn to see my best friend, Eddie running up to me. "Yes, Edward?" I reply, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Did you get my message?" he asks.

I give him a withering look. "Dude. It has been about two minutes since school got out. I haven't turned my phone on yet."

He rolls his eyes in exaggerated despair. "You are such a goody-goody," he complains.

"Well, I don't really want to get my phone confiscated in front of everybody in class."

"Whatever. Anyway, I texted you to ask if we're still on for this weekend," Eddie says.

I throw him a confused look. "I thought you were going on a date with that, uh, what'ser name...?"

"Lisa," he interrupts patiently.

"Lisa," I repeat.

"Nah. She was scammin' on me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I tell him. And I'm not just sorry for him. I feel a surge of anger at this Lisa girl. Eddie is my best friend, and he's a great guy.

"Don't be. She wasn't very nice anyway," he responds with a shrug and then throws his arm casually around my shoulder. "Not like my Rylie."

A warm feeling flutters in my stomach; I hope to God I'm not blushing. "Yeah, yeah," I grumble, pushing him away lightly. "And I'll have to ask my mom, but you can probably come over this weekend."

Eddie grins at me, flashing me dimples and his sparkling brown eyes. Which doesn't really help the butterflies but I try to ignore them. "There won't be any problem with me coming over. Your mom loves me," he says confidently.

"Only cuz she feels sorry for you," I joke and then turn when yet another person calls my name- my best girlfriend, Emmi.

"Hey, Rylie, where are you going?" she asks.

"Where I usually go. Why?"

Whatever Emmi is going to say is forgotten; immediately, her eyes grow wide with alarm. Eddie and I exchange a confused glance at her strange reaction. "What is it, Emmi?" I ask.

After a moment's hesitation, she blinks and shakes her head, trying not to look so obviously worried. "Well, I don't really know... Do you want a ride?" she inquires, looking hopeful, almost desperate.

I narrow my eyes. "No. You know I like to walk. What are you freaking out about, Em?" I love Emmi, but sometimes she worries too much.

"Well..." She blushes, looking uncomfortable, and I can tell she's worried about sounding like an idiot. Before she can spit out what's on her mind, some of Eddie's football friends call him over. He says good-bye to us and then jogs over to them; once he's gone, I turn back to Emmi expectantly.

"Okay, have you seen the hobo?" she begins hesitantly.

I blink, drawing back in surprise. "What hobo?"

"The creepy guy, the one who hangs around here all the time?" she continues, and when she sees that I still have no clue, she elaborates further. "The ginger guy with the angry face."

My stomach does a little flip-flop and the hairs stand up on my arms. "You mean the brick wall?" I reply without thinking.

"'The brick wall'?" she repeats and I shake my head in embarrassment.

"It's just what I call him. I ran into him one day and it was walking into a brick wall," I explain, feeling like an idiot. "Now, what about him?"

"I don't know. He's just...creepy. Like, he's always there, ya know? He looks like he could murder someone," Emmi explains, shivering.

Brick wall? Murder someone? Impossible. Granted, he does look a bit rough, but...a killer? "Emmi, you're just worrying over nothing. I'll be fine. Besides, even if he is a murderer, it's not like he's gonna kill _me_," I joke lightly, nudging her with my elbow.

Still, she looks doubtful. "Just be careful, Rylie, that's all I'm asking," she replies.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Mom," I drawl sarcastically.

"Hey, you joke now, but just wait until you're lying in a morgue somewhere. You'll be like, 'Oh, why didn't I listen to Emmi?'" she says and then adds, "You still got your pepper spray?"

"Emmi! I'll be fine!" I insist and wave her away. "Bye now." With one last roll of my eyes, I head outside, slipping on my headphones and blocking out the world. But I can't block out all of it. After a few moments, I can't help glancing around me, my eyes searching the surroundings for my brick wall. But he's not anywhere, and I can't help feeling embarrassed for looking. _Emmi worries too much over nothing, _I assure myself and continue on my way.

When I get to Hastings, I head right to my usual place, the secluded corner in the health section. I don't bother checking the books to see if anyone's found my notes; I just put them in yesterday, and that's too soon to expect anyone to have found them. I sit down in my comfy green chair, pull my notebook out of my backpack, and start writing out more notes.

I'm so absorbed in my writing that, at first, I'm unaware of the person standing behind me. Until he speaks. "What about people who don't have computers?"

I stop writing. And stop breathing. I've only heard that low, gravelly voice once but I feel like I would know it anywhere. Eyes wide with astonishment, I turn to see the brick wall standing behind me, reading the note tentatively over my shoulder.

"Uh...I didn't think about that," I reply after an awkward pause. "Thanks," I tell him. And I actually mean it. I've never thought what people might do if they didn't have computers to look up Infowars and Prisonplanet.

He opens his mouth to speak in reply, then closes it again and just nods. He looks nervous, edgy, as if he doesn't want to be here but has no choice. It confuses me, but I smile at him, hoping to make him less uncomfortable. He doesn't smile back and he doesn't speak, and I feel myself flush, embarrassed.

"So...what are you doing here?" I ask when he doesn't make any move to either leave or speak.

He blinks, looking startled, as if he's not expecting this question. "I always come here," he responds.

"Really?" I ask skeptically. "I've never seen you."

He is silent for a moment, avoiding my gaze. "Well, you see me now," he finally grumbles.

I watch him for a moment. "Yes, I do," I reply quietly. I can't help thinking of Emmi's warnings: _He looks like he could murder someone... _

_No, no, calm down. Don't let your imagination run away with you, _I think to myself, but my fingertips have started shaking. _Get a grip! _I snap, angry and ashamed.

"Um...do you wanna sit down or something?" I inquire, motioning to the chair next to mine.

Again, the brick wall looks startled. "Well, I, um...no," he replies and then shakes his head impatiently. "I mean...suppose I could. For a minute. Just...wanted to ask you some questions," he explains.

"Okay..?" My sentence trails off into a question, but he doesn't explain further, just sits down in the chair next to me. His icy blue eyes flicker to me and then away cautiously, almost mistrustfully. A thick silence falls over us, heavy with awkwardness. I glance at him and then away, confused and nervous.

"Uh...what did you want to ask me?" I finally ask, cutting through the silence.

He turns to me then and, though the discomfort is still in his eyes, they have taken on a new look. An almost business-like glow of determination has backlit his blue eyes and I blink, flinching back a little as an overpowering sense of deja vu showers through me. "Know what we have to do," he growls, holding something out to me. I nod to him, meeting his single-minded gaze.

When the vision passes, I realize that the brick wall is answering my question so I quickly shake off the deja vu and focus. "I found one of your notes. Saw you putting one into a book yesterday," he explains.

I swallow, my eyes widening anxiously. "You saw me?" I hiss, all of the uncomfortable sensations of awkwardness and deja vu vanishing. If _he _saw me, then _others _could have seen me, too!

"Don't worry," he assures me quickly. "I don't think anyone else saw. But I wanted to ask you about what you said in your notes. About the government. I don't have a computer, so I can't look up Infowars or Prisonplanet. But I want...I _need _to know..."

I stare at him, astonished by the urgency in his voice, the single-minded ferocity in his eyes. "Okay...I mean, what exactly do you want to know?" I reply slowly.

"Anything you can tell me," he responds.

"Alright...oh God where do I start..." I trail off, biting my lip. "Okay, um, how much background knowledge do you have on stuff like this?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Not much. Just that...just that Adrian Veidt has something to do with it, and that they're trying to establish a new world order."

"Mm. And you don't have any way to get on a computer?" I clarify. He shakes his head and I pause before going on. An idea is sprouting in my head, one that I'm not entirely sure I should go along with; sure, this guy probably isn't a _murderer, _but I don't really know him. He's just some brick wall that I ran into a week ago. He could be anyone.

Still...whenever I'm around him, I always have these weird deja vu moments. Like I've seen him before or something. But I've never met him, I'm sure of that. So maybe, with this idea, I can possibly learn a bit more about him. Just enough to establish exactly _why _I've been having these strange visions that feel like memories.

"Well, if you want, I could bring my laptop here sometime and I could show you the sites I go to. They have tons of great information and they're always up to date," I tell him tentatively. _Jeez, way to sound like some lame commercial, _I think to myself, watching his expression carefully.

He opens his mouth, looking as if he's about to refuse. The uneasiness has returned; his eyes flicker across my face and then away a few times before he focuses them on the floor. "You...you don't have to..." he mutters.

"It's no trouble," I assure him, wondering why he's so uncomfortable around me. It makes me embarrassed, as if I've done something wrong. But I'm not about to make a huge deal out of it if he's willing to listen to me. One more person who knows about the government's true intentions is one more step toward liberty.

He looks at me again uncertainly. We stare at each other for a long time and then he sighs lightly. "O-okay. When do you want to meet?" he inquires quietly.

I shrug. "Well, I'll be here tomorrow. I usually walk here everyday, and you say you come here all the time so, we could meet here tomorrow," I suggest. I wonder why I don't believe that he comes here all the time- I don't even know him, so why should I assume he's lying?

He dips his head in assent. "Fine," he agrees. Yet another moment of silence. And then he stands up, looking at me without ever really meeting my gaze. "Then I'll see you tomorrow," he murmurs and then walks quickly away without another word.

"Uh, yeah," I reply quietly to no one. "See ya."

_**Rorschach**_

I clench my fists so tightly that I feel my nails bite into the skin. I'm still not quite sure just what I've gotten myself into. Meeting with a _girl?_ Meeting with a girl I don't even _know? _

But I must know the truth. I _have _to know the truth. And if that means associating with a girl, then I will.

Veidt will do anything to have his way.

And I will do anything to stop him.

_**Rylie**_

I am sitting in my room, trying to concentrate on my math homework, when my cell phone rings. I jump, frightened nearly out of my skin by the sudden, sharp sound, and then shake my head, angry at myself. Ever since arranging the meeting with the brick wall, I haven't been able to concentrate on much of anything. It's frustrating.

I pick up my phone, still irritated. "Hello?"

"Rylie?"

I stifle a sigh. "Emmi. Calling to check that I'm still alive?" I drawl shrewdly.

"_No,"_ Emmi growls; I can almost see her roll her eyes. "I was calling to ask if you'd switched into creative writing yet. I meant to ask today after school got out but I forgot."

Forgot because she was trying to warn me about the brick wall. _And here I am, planning to meet him and look up stuff on the internet with him, _I think dryly. _But at least he hasn't murdered me yet, _I add, but it's really not much of a consolation.

Yes. I am aware that this is kind of an idiotic thing to do, arranging a meeting with a man I barely know. But he wants to know about the government; he's willing to listen. We share a common goal, or at least, I hope we do.

"Rylie? Rylie!"

I jump, startled once more out of my thoughts. "Um, sorry. What?"

Emmi sighs dramatically. "I asked if you'd switched into creative writing yet," she repeats impatiently.

"Oh, no. Sorry. I asked but it wouldn't work with my schedule," I reply absently.

On the other end, Emmi starts to ramble on about how she wishes I could have transferred to creative writing and whatnot. But my thoughts are not with her.

My thoughts are in Hastings. With my brick wall.

_**Jon**_

The one who stands alone.

This person is a mystery to me, an enigma. I can't understand this particular human being. This person reminds me...reminds me of one I used to love.

Some distant, dying part of me still loves her. But it is fading, will fade away to nonexistance. She does not concern me anymore. She has moved on, and so have I.

The one who stands alone. They are my concern now.

It has begun.

I am looking forward to the dancing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so. I hope that this chapter wasn't boring or bad or anything. Although I can't make my story dance and sing (hello Cyberbutterfly), I do hope that I am creating a sufficiently entertaining and true-to-the characters story. I swear, it's getting harder with each chapter to write this story, even though I have it all planned out. I just wanted to say that, though Walter's character has to seem a bit softer in this story (since he really can't remember any of the bad crap that happened to him right now), I am doing my absolute best to keep him close to in character and to keep my OC from becoming a flaming Mary-sue (I know how much you all hate them.) Anyway, I guess I've bored you enough with this note. Please read and review. :)


	6. Six

NOTE: First off, I would just like to thank all of you fabulous (yes, I just used the word "fabulous") people who have been reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it. Second, the song(s) of the day are Apocalypse Please by Muse and Say (All I Need) by OneRepublic, so look 'em up on Youtube and hope you like 'em. (And if you really wanna be Watchmen-y, look up "watchmen music video-muse-apocalpyse please", it's pretty epic.)

6. Declare This

_**Rylie**_

When I step into the warmth of Hastings from the cold of outside, shaking the snow from my hair, my eyes instantly start searching for the brick wall. _He's probably already in my corner, _I tell myself and head in that direction. But he isn't, and I'm still cold, so, hefting both my bookbag and the computer case over my shoulder, I head to the cafe to get a drink.

I'm waiting for my hazelnut coffee when suddenly, a quiet voice murmurs, "Looks heavy. Need me to hold something?"

I nearly jump right out of my skin, whipping around to see my brick wall standing next to me. "Jesus! Do you _always _just appear out of nowhere, or am I just really unobservant?" I gasp.

He blinks at me, his expression smooth. He seems calmer today, business-like. "Apologies," he murmurs and then motions to my heavy load. "Do you need me to hold something?" he asks again.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Thanks," I say, handing over the computer case while keeping my backpack slung over one shoulder. I pause and then look back at him. "Do you want anything?" I ask, indicating the cafe bar in front of us.

He draws back a little, looking shocked that I should offer, and I feel a wave of pity wash over me. It's horrible to think that he might not have met a very nice person, that it seems so impossible to him that someone would offer to buy him coffee.

"No. But thank you," he finally replies after recovering from his momentary surprise.

"Are you sure? It's happy hour. Get a large for the price of a small," I add temptingly.

He nods. "I'm sure," he answers. His expression remains the same, but I think I can hear a hint of amusement in his voice. But that could just be wishful thinking.

Once I have my coffee, we head over to my corner and sit down. As we're waiting for the computer to turn on, I glance at the brick wall thoughtfully. "So...I have a question," I say after a moment's pause.

He looks at me cautiously. "Okay..." He trails off warily.

"What's your name?"

The brick wall blinks his blue eyes, hesitating. I watch him, wondering what to do if he won't tell me his name. And then the surprise fades from his eyes, to be replaced with a sort of concession. "Walter," he tells me.

"Walter..." I repeat thoughtfully. I pass the name around on my tongue a few times, tasting it, trying it out. It's familiar, but I've never known a Walter before. After puzzling over this veiled, almost-recognition, I realize that Walter is watching me expectantly.

"I'm sorry, what?" I say, blushing in embarrassment.

"Well, your name," he replies. "I gave you mine. Only fair that you give me yours, too."

"Cadence," I tell him. "But everybody calls me Rylie."

He cocks his head. "Why Rylie?" he inquires curiously.

"Well, that's my middle name. Er, well, Rylan is. Besides, I don't like my first name," I add, curling my lip.

"Cadence is a beautiful name," he murmurs. "You should use it more." And then he narrows his eyes in confusion, as if he never meant to say that.

In an attempt to save him from his mysterious embarrassment, I say lightly, "Well, we should probably get down to business."

He nods, looking relieved. "Right," he agrees.

I place the laptop on the table between our chairs and type "infowars" into the search bar. Once my site comes up, I turn to Walter. "Okay, before we start looking at the stuff on here, there's probably some basic things we should go over," I tell him. "As you already know, the government is trying to control us in order to form their new world order. Currently, they are trying to do this through population control, poisoning, teaching us wrong information, and, ultimately, utilizing fear," I begin. Walter narrows his eyes as he listens but doesn't interrupt, so I continue.

"One of their many, many tricks to control us is to feed us pills. They put, like, these chemicals in the pills they sell at pharmacies that cause infertility and sterilization and they're doing this to control the population," I explain.

"They put these chemicals in _all _pills?" Walter inquires.

I shrug. "I wouldn't doubt it," I say and then add quickly, "Except for natural drugs. You know, like the ones you can get at health food stores. But, of course, they don't like _that _which leads me to my next point: Monsanto."

"Monsanto?"

I nod. "They're this big corporation that sells genetically modified seeds and fertilizer to farmers. And, apparently, pesticides are bred into these seeds so that they're resistant to things that usually kill off crops. But if these poisonous pesticides are bred into the seed, then that means that-"

"That when the plant grows, it's poisonous," Walter interrupts, his voice quivering with rage.

"Yes. And then they sell the produce to us," I agree, nodding. "Basically, they're using Monsanto as a way to both poison us and influence the market, two big things that they need to accomplish in order to reach their final goal."

"Which is what?" Walter inquires, but from the look in his eyes I can tell that he's already guessed.

"They want to keep us sick, and they want to kill off a certain percent of the population. They want complete control, and in order to have that they can't have potential protestors around to stop them," I murmur. "We're just 'useless eaters'," I snort without much humor.

"'Useless eaters'?" Walter repeats, catching my implied quotation marks.

I meet his gaze. "That's what Henry Kissinger called us, the people- useless eaters."

We stare at each other for a long moment, each of us mirroring the other's determination. In that infinite heartbeat, we made a connection. We were two useless eaters who shared the same seemingly impossible goal. Without words, we both vowed to become a team.

A team to sound the alarm, and declare this an emergency.

_**Rorschach**_

I've arranged to meet Cadence tomorrow at Hastings again. She and I went over extensive amounts of information, which still has my head reeling. In addition to the stories of corrupt pharmaceutical companies and Monsanto, Cadence told me of the fluoride in the water (another way to poison the people), and the creation of flu viruses (a way to create fear so that people will get flu vaccines), and the flu vaccines (which are also poisonous, resulting in permanently crippling strokes and seizures).

She also told me about their manipulation tricks. Weather manipulation- chemtrails. Up in the air, their chemplanes are seeding the clouds so that they can control the weather- creating clouds and whatever else serves their purpose. Because they want to hurt crops. They want to hurt crops so that farmers will turn to Monsanto, believing that these genetically engineered seeds are the only option.

And nervous system manipulation through low-frequency electromagnetic pulses- from TVs, cell phones, and computers. And since they've been pushing technology a lot lately, everyone has at least a TV or a computer or a cell phone.

_So much information in one day, _I think to myself, feeling the beginnings of a headache in my temple. I shove my hands deeper into the pockets of my new jacket (I stole it last night on patrol from a criminal)and trudge on to my "apartment".

It's actually just an abandoned warehouse on the northern edge of downtown Lawrence, closest to the river. I keep my mask and other clothes there, ever since I was able to buy new pants and a shirt from a thrift store. I realized quickly that it probably wasn't a good idea to wear Rorschach's clothes during the day. People would probably suspect...

It's getting dark. Almost time to patrol. My nerves quiver with anticipation and my heart thunders in my chest. Here is something I know, something I'm used to. Spending a good hour and a half with Cadence was like jumping into a body of water without any idea of what's beneath the surface. Or even how to swim. But patrolling is safe, and the night is like home.

Slipping on my mask, I sigh in relief, feel the cool certainty wash through me, transform me... Night shadows envelope me. Outside, city waits. Scum waits, too, creatures of the night. Creature of the night myself, I take flight and join them.

Snow has stopped, easier to see. Almost immediately, hear sounds of alarm from store close by. Go to investigate, spot three young men racing away from scene. Inside store, no one seems to be hurt, so launch into pursuit. Must be theft.

Follow them down tight alleys silently. They don't know I'm here. They take right turn up ahead, I go straight; know a way to cut them off. Race through the hidden mazes of the city, jumping from shadow to shadow. Overtake them quickly, and slide on the snow out in front of them. Light hits me from behind, casts my shadow onto their faces. Can't see my face. Am just menacing dark form to them.

Descend on them quickly, efficiently. Get job done quickly. When three are lying unconscious on cold ground, kneel down to retrieve stolen goods. And as I do, see something strange on one man's face. Boy's _face, _I realize. _They're just boys, same age as Cadence._

Thing on boy's face is a tattoo. Small shadow near left eye. Breath catches in throat. Inkblot. Rorschach pattern.

_What is going on? _I think, reeling backward with goods still clutched in hands. Return to store with head still spinning, give stolen goods back without a word. People stare, some in confusion, some in disbelief. Wonder what they see when they see my face.

Walking out into cold again, it comes to me then. Jon's words: _There will be some who may look like criminals, but who are not. _Was he referring to boys? But...thieves. Not right. Not lawful.

And yet...

Inkblot on boy's face. Dark smudge of truth on dirty face of crime. Another mystery. One more puzzle to be solved. Boys know of me, Cadence knows of me...

How do they know me? How does my shadow extend across world?

Swallowing my unease, I head into Hastings to meet Cadence. She is already sitting in our usual spot, the computer on the table. She is bent over her notebook, scribbling out more notes, so she doesn't notice me.

I cock my head and clear my throat. When she looks up, her eyes light up excitedly. "You're here!" she exclaims. "Great, cuz I have got news!"

"Alright. What is it?" I ask, sitting down in the chair next to her.

"Well, okay, okay, so this is really epic, alright," she starts babbling and I twitch my lips to hide a smile at her enthusiasm. "Okay, so I was just on Infowars and I was reading these articles about police brutality, you know, cuz there's been an increase and all," she begins and I nod, narrowing my eyes. I remember from yesterday her stories about the increase in uncalled-for police brutality against citizens, and witnessing it with my own eyes that first night on patrol.

"Anyway, so in Chicago, there was a woman who was pulled over in the suburbs where she lived for a broken taillight. She apparently mouthed off to the cop and he started punching her," Cadence continues, her eyes darkening momentarily. Then they brighten and I know she's getting to the good part of her story. "And then, some onlookers, neighbors of hers apparently, jumped on the cop and pulled him off of her. The cop turned on them and one guy punched him- broke his nose, too. Of course, he was arrested for assaulting an officer, but the officer deserved it and isn't that just so amazing?" she gasps breathlessly, turning her wide, excited eyes to me.

I nod, warmed by her optimism. A man gets arrested for punching a cop who was assaulting a woman who had really done nothing wrong, and Cadence only sees the brightness that it offers: a man standing up against the system...

"Anyway. So that's my story for the day. What about you? How was your day?" she asks curiously and I immediately feel the heat inside of me change to a different kind of heat, an embarrassed, uneasy heat.

"Um. Okay," I respond quickly and then motion to the computer. "What else was on Infowars today?" I ask, changing the subject. I think I see a flash of disappointment pass through her stormy blue eyes but it's gone before I can truly tell.

"Well, there's been an increase in violence in the middle east, and the military trying to calm the situation found police officers amid the protesters, disguised as regular citizens. They said the cops had been put there to create trouble for the protesters," she says.

"You mean, they wanted to make the protesters seem volatile," I interrupt.

Cadence nods. "Exactly. They want to make the protesters seem uncontrollably violent so that they have an excuse to use brute force, and a reason to discredit them," she says. _Hurm. Smart girl, _I think to myself.

"Oh, and there's also a file on here...if I can find it...aha!" she exclaims and then turns the computer to me. On the screen is a page entitled "Police Trained Nationwide That Informed Americans Are Domestic Terrorists", and, below, a list of criteria for flagging potential "terrorists". Cadence lets me read through the list in peace, letting me absorb this unbelievable criteria in silent outrage, which I appreciate.

_Christians, animal rights activists, people who show negative or hateful tendencies toward cops or the government, _I read. The next one makes the blood boil in my veins: _Defenders of the Constitution. _Outrage slams through me and I clench my teeth so tightly that little jolts of pain shoot up from my jaw. _The Constitution is what founded this country! Of course we should defend it! _I think and then, my rage still smoldering inside me, I read on.

"You and I would be considered terrorists," she says quietly once I've scrolled to the bottom of the list. Her words bring me up short, striking through me and making me tremble. Not because I'm considered a terrorist; no, that doesn't bother me at all. It was to be expected.

_You and I... _Her words make me feel warm and cold at the same time. Warm because they make me feel like I belong here, like we are in this together. Cold because of the same reasons.

"It's crap, isn't it?"

I blink, startled from my painfully confusing emotions, and look over at Cadence, who looks expectantly back. I realize she's referring to the terrorist flagging criteria, and I nod quickly.

"They can flag me for being Christian, they can flag me for defending the Constitution, they can flag me for hating the government-"

"And cops," I interject.

"Yes, and cops," she agrees, nodding to me. "I mean, could they make this list any broader?" She glares down at the page, shaking her head, her eyes clouded with suppressed rage and sorrow. As if she's watching the country she loves most burn right before her eyes.

I watch it with her, and we both hope for the rain.

_**Rylie**_

As I head back to our meeting place, I sip my hazelnut coffee to try and clear my head. There is so much going on, so much that needs to be researched and absorbed before we can even begin to fight it. Not much good has been happening, either; even the case with the people standing up to the cop was shadowed by the fact that the man was arrested and the woman pulled over still bore the evidence of the cop's violence on her face.

_There's too much bad to keep up with the good, _I think darkly. And that's when the music that plays constantly in the store changes to Say (All I Need) by OneRepublic. My heart does a flip in my chest and suddenly I feel lighter. _Okay, God, _I think. _I hear ya. I'm focusing too much on the bad stuff, I know. _

When I sit down next to Walter again, I feel refreshed, my chest looser. Easier to breathe. "I love this song," I comment quietly.

Walter looks at me and then we both listen until the song ends. "Mm. I like it, too," he murmurs when it's over.

A comfortable silence falls on us then. The awkwardness is still there, but it's not as potent, doesn't take center stage. I pass the computer over to Walter so he can read more on Infowars while I continue writing out notes. We continue working like this in silence until I hear Walter's stomach growl.

I look over at him and raise an eyebrow. He looks back at me, blushing. "Hungry?" I inquire, trying to keep the amusement from my voice so he won't feel more embarrassed.

He looks away, down at the floor, and shrugs. "Haven't eaten in a while," he replies, trying to sound as if it's not a big deal.

Pity washes through me but I hide it; I know it will hurt his pride if he knows I feel bad for him. But I have to do something... "Well, actually, I'm pretty hungry, too," I respond lightly. "How about we go to this great Chinese restaraunt near here? It's called Peking Taste and it's mind-bogglingly good," I suggest.

With wide, alarmed eyes he looks at me. "N-no, no, I'm fine," he stammers.

"No, c'mon, it's no big deal, really," I insist. "I've been wanting to go to Peking Taste for a while and this is pretty much the only day I can do it cuz I have more time cuz my mom doesn't get off till five so can we go, please?"

Walter eyes me with a mixture of caution and amusement, and then he sighs. "Well, I suppose..."

"Great!" I exclaim and start to pack up my stuff.

As we're trudging through the snow to Peking Taste, which is just behind Hastings, Walter speaks up. "Cadence?"

I look over at Walter, puzzled by his shy, uncertain tone. He doesn't look at me, keeping his eyes focused strictly ahead. "Yes?" I prompt.

"The way you sign your notes..." He trails off, as if he isn't sure how to go on, or even if he should. "Why do you use that symbol?"

I blink. _Where did that come from? _I wonder. "Um, well it's Rorschach's symbol," I answer.

"Rorschach," Walter repeats.

I nod. "There's a column in 'The New Frontiersmen' called 'Rorschach's Journal'. They published it awhile back but my friend- Eddie- his parents kept all of the copies they got and we read them...which his parents didn't really like, but whatever. Anyway, it was basically the journal of this vigilante back in 80s who followed the conspiracy surrounding Adrian Veidt," I explain.

"And people read his journal?" Walter inquires, sounding breathless and surprised, as if he's just remembered something and can't quite believe it.

"Yeah, it...Well, it actually has quite a cult following," I reply and he raises an eyebrow at me. "Well, when I was in New York-"

"You were in New York?" he interrupts.

"Yeah, I grew up there till I was fourteen. And the gangs there...well, I guess, the newer generation of gang members, read Rorschach's journal and started rebelling against Veidt and the government, trying to spread the truth, you know. And a lot of them started using Rorschach's insignia and getting these inkblot tattoos as a sign that they were truthers," I explain.

At my side, Walter comes to a jarring halt so I stop, too, and turn to look at him. His blue eyes are wide with disbelief, his mouth parted slightly. I watch him but don't say anything, sensing that he needs a moment to register...whatever it is he's registering. "The..._gang members _read it? The journal?" he finally manages to whisper.

I nod, giving him a strange look. "Yeah, but not the ones who had known Rorschach. Cuz, see, apparently he was this really scary vigilante that all of the...what did they call the criminals...?"

"The Underworld," Walter offers distractedly.

I blink at him. "Yeah. How'd you know that?"

That draws him up short. He looks at me warily and, a split second before he answers, I know he's not gonna tell me the truth. "Must have picked it up from somewhere," he says with a shrug.

I am silent for a heartbeat and then I continue slowly. "Yeah, so, anyway, all of the Underworld feared Rorschach and so the ones who remembered him, what he was like and why they feared him..." I shake my head. "They didn't follow him. But the younger gang members...they follow him. They call themselves truthers and mark themselves with inkblot tattoos."

"Why do they follow him if they're criminals?" Walter inquires. We have reached the Chinese restaraunt, and we stop the conversation for a moment while the waitress takes us to our tables. We order our drinks and then I answer Walter's question.

"I guess it's because Veidt destroyed cities, killed people, and is now working with the government to enslave humanity. They're fed up," I reply with a shrug. "Now, c'mon, let's go get our food."

"Wait," Walter protests when I start to get up. "How much is this gonna cost?"

I throw him a reassuring smile. "For the two of us it'll be somewhere around thirteen dollars. _And _it's an all-you-can-eat-till-your-bellybutton-pops-out buffet, so stop worrying about the price and let's get some food," I tell him lightly.

I think I see his lips twitch slightly in response, but I can't be sure.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whoa. Okay. Sorry for the longness (I'm not sure that's a word but I'm going with it anyway) of the chapter, hope it wasn't boring. Hurm...it seems like there was something else I wanted to say, and I'm pretty sure I'll publish this and then think of it right afterwards...eh, whatever. Thanks for reading, please review!


	7. Seven

NOTE: Okay, before you start reading I just wanna say this. In this chapter (and the next) I am focusing on Rylie's relationships with both Walter and Eddie. But I have thrown in a bunch of key information that will come up in later chapters, so it's not just for my own self and I'm not just rambling. I do in fact have my reasons :)

7. Protect Me (But I Would Never Say That Out Loud)

_**Rylie**_

"Okay, so you'll pick me up at around four?" Eddie asks as we walk out of the school.

"Yep. And you make sure you have everything ready this time, mister. I don't wanna be waiting for like an hour on you," I tease, giving him a mock glare.

"Hey, now. I did not take an hour, it was more like forty-five minutes," Eddie retorts and then grins at me, winking.

_Be still, my heart._

"Yeah, whatev-" But the words halt in my throat and I'm unable to finish. Because I have just seen someone, someone waiting for me. He is standing on the sidewalk, separated from everyone else, looking very out of place and uneasy.

And then our gazes meet and we stare at each other for a heartbeat that feels like an eternity. We know each other, out of a sea of other faces that suddenly don't matter. Because we have a purpose. Because we are connected by the truths we know.

Because we are alone together.

"Rylie?"

_Hello, Walter, _I think, giving him a tentative yet surprised smile.

"Rylie!"

I jump, startled, and turn to Eddie. "What?"

He looks at me, both curious and irritated. "What are you looking at?" he asks and follows my gaze. "Do you know him?"

"Uh...yeah. Yeah, actually I do. Sorry, Eddie, I've gotta go," I say and start to head over to Walter. "Four o' clock _sharp!" _I holler over my shoulder. Eddie just watches me, startled.

When I reach him, he still looks uncomfortable. "Hope you don't mind...that I met you here," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Uh, no, I suppose it's okay, just...how did you know I go here?" I inquire, though a split second later I realize it's kind of a stupid question. I've seen him around here before, so he must've seen me, too.

"I see you walking," Walter replies simply.

There is a brief pause, and then I clap my hands together. "So. Wendy's?"

He nods. "Sure." And we start walking.

We don't say much. I'm usually the one who does say something. Walter listens but most of the time doesn't respond. I'm kind of getting used to his silences. And it's actually not entirely horrible. I'm surrounded by people everyday who talk all the time but they talk about nothing. Sometimes you don't need to talk to speak.

When we get to Wendy's, we set our stuff down on my table and head up to the front to order food. "Hmm, I really want the number nine. What do you want?" I ask, looking expectantly at Walter.

"Oh, nothing-"

"Fine, we'll share. Now. What size?" I ask. He will eat today, no argument, I've decided.

He grimaces but doesn't argue further. "Small."

"Large," I reply and then grin at him. "Ha! I win."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, crossing his arms and leaning back against the railing sullenly. I ignore him and turn to the lady behind the counter. "Hey, Rylie. Your usual today?" she asks.

"Not today, Irene. I'd like a large number nine with nothing on the sandwich and Dr. Pepper to drink," I order, smiling and handing over the cash.

Once our order is ready, we go over to the condiment table to get straws and such. While we're there, Walter leans over and whispers, "She knows you?"

I nod. "I come here all the time, remember? It's nice, though," I say. "It's nice to go to a place where people know you, even if it's just a fast food restaraunt."

Walter blinks curiously and then nods. "Yes. Suppose it is," he replies.

Once we're back at the table, I immediately go to work setting up the computer where I won't spill Dr. Pepper or chicken sandwich on it. Walter gets on once it's loaded and starts looking up Infowars while I take the chicken off of the bread.

Walter snorts in disgust. "Another case of police brutality," he tells me.

I narrow my eyes. "What this time?"

"Apparently an elderly man and his wife were returning home, and when he was walking up the steps to his front door he fell and hurt his leg. He called the paramedics and when they arrived they quickly checked him out and said it was just a bad sprain, nothing serious. At that point, the cops showed up," Walter explains and meets my gaze meaningfully. I feel my heartbeat slow in my chest, calmly awaiting the horror.

"When they stepped up to his front door, the paramedics were about to leave and the man was telling them how 'when he did something stupid like this, he'd like to kill himself '. The cops then entered- without a warrant- and the man told them to leave. They said they wouldn't leave because he was a 'threat to his own life'. So, he told them to get out again and then got up to leave. He didn't threaten them, didn't do anything to implicate that he would hurt anybody." Walter pauses and sighs, as if preparing himself.

"He didn't have to go to the hospital before the cops came. But he did after they arrived. Because when he got up from the couch, they tased him."

I'm prepared, but even so I can't help uttering a cry of shock and anger. "They _tased _him?"

Walter nods. "Three times. Twice while he was already on the ground, incapacitated. His wife kept yelling for them to stop."

"But of course they wouldn't listen," I add almost unconsciously.

"Of course not."

A short silence follows, and suddenly I feel I have to break it so I push the tray of food over to Walter. "Here. Have some," I murmur solemnly. Walter just stares at the tray. "What?"

"You take the sandwich apart."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. I'm really picky," I reply. "Pass me the computer."

"Alri-" I look up when Walter breaks off abruptly. His eyes are wide with surprise.

"What is it?"

"You...the...here," he says and turns the computer toward me. Glancing at him curiously, I read the title of the article that he is so shocked at. And I have to admit that it does kind of take my breath away, too. It's amazing.

"'New Vigilante Group Opposes Government'". Simply the title sends a warm tingle down my spine. It goes on to talk about how truthers in New York have gotten together to form a group called "GenerationX Watchmen", and how they have been spraypainting on the buildings there (things like: "End the Fed", "Question authority", "We the People...remember?" )

"Watchmen?" Walter says after giving me time to skim the article.

I look up at him. "What?"

"They call themselves Watchmen?"

I blink, confused. "Yeah...what's wrong with that?"

"Well, it's just...didn't people back in the 80s use 'Who watches the Watchmen?' as a slogan for protesting vigilantes?"

"Uh. Yeah," I answer. "But what does that-"

"Why would they use 'Watchmen' in their name if it has a negative connotation toward vigilantes?" Walter interrupts impatiently.

"Well, I obviously don't know," I reply shortly. "Maybe they're using the 'Who watches the Watchmen?' bit to acknowledge their solidarity, to remind people of how they distrusted the vigilantes before and how, now, they might need them!" I spout.

We both fall silent, and I wonder in my head how it suddenly got so heated. Part of me wants to apologize for being bitchy, but part of me (stupidly)thinks that if I don't bring attention to the tension, it'll just sniff me and go away.

Finally, Walter gets up. "I should go," he says.

I look up at him, dismayed. "No, I...I'm sorry snapped at you like that..." I hear myself protest.

"Doesn't matter," he says coolly. "I still have to leave." He pauses and then nods to me in a stiff, formal way that makes me feel even worse. "Be seeing you." And then he walks away.

_**Rorschach**_

_She can't help me, _I think as I trudge down the sidewalk. _I have enough information from her. I'll find a computer somewhere and research the rest._

I refuse to believe that the pang that I feel is loneliness.

_This is just an inconvenience. And no matter what Manhattan says, I don't need her. She is not important. She is not the one._

_**Rylie**_

"So, Rylie. Who's this guy you abandoned me for?" Eddie asks. We're lying on my trampoline together, both of us resting on our backs and looking up at the stars.

I wince. This is the question I was hoping he wouldn't ask. "Uh, he's just a friend. Someone I met at Hastings," I hedge.

"Bit old for you, isn't he?" Eddie teases, but there is an edge to his voice.

I glare at him. "He's only, like, twenty. And besides, I'm not interested."

"Liar."

"I'm not!"

"Okay, then who _are _you interested in?"

_You. _"No one," I lie. "What about you?" I retort.

Eddie shrugs. "Well, there is this cheerleader. Tanner. She's been throwin' some glances my way, I think I might take her out," he says, like it's no big deal.

I nod, trying to match his nonchalance. Inside it feels like I've just been impaled with a burning fork. Except much worse. I should be used to it by now. Ever since junior high, he's had all of the cheerleaders on his sleeve. He's a popular, but the kind that likes to start trouble with other populars just to put them in their place. Eddie doesn't care what anyone thinks. He's so different from me.

"How's Malcom doing? I haven't seen him lately," I ask, changing the subject.

"He's alright. He's doing much better, actually," Eddie replies, forcing a smile. I give him a sympathetic glance; he can't lie to me. Malcom hasn't been the same since Samantha's death.

"Is he still in contact with Veidt?" I ask, curling my lip.

Eddie grimaces. "Yes. And if you're thinking about trying to convince him not to, don't. He won't have any Veidt-bashing. Says he's a great guy," he tells me, rolling his eyes. Then he looks at me thoughtfully. "You know, he's been wanting to see you. You should come over sometime."

"Alright. When?" I agree easily. It's no hardship hanging out with Malcom and Eddie, even if Malcom is somewhat delusional about Veidt and the justice system.

"Well, you were gonna take me back into town tomorrow. Why not just stay then?"

"Okay. Sounds good." Inside, I'm slightly nervous. _Hopefully I won't run into Walter, _I think.

"Dude. I'm hungry. Let's make popcorn," Eddie says after a moment.

I laugh. "You're always hungry."

"Coming from the girl who ate seven burgers last Fourth of July," he teases, taking my hand as we walk back into the house. It makes me feel warm in a familiar way. We've always held hands ever since we were little; it's just our thing.

"That was one time!" I protest, punching him in the arm.

"Ow," he complains. "Jeez, you hit hard. You really should've tried out for football."

"I told you. It wouldn't have worked with my schedule," I reply, shoving him away to dig into the fridge.

"Yeah, not to mention the fact that _Matthew Clifford _is on the team," Eddie teases.

"Shut up! Matthew Clifford is an asshole and I hate him," I growl, pouring a measuring cup of popcorn kernels into the air popper.

The roar of the machine drowns out what he says next, so he leans in to yell in my ear: "I would have protected you."

I blink at him, feeling my insides heat up. "I don't need anyone to protect me," I tell him, but my head is spinning. I've always wished that I was on the football team, ever since Eddie taught me how to play in fifth grade. Now I definately wish I had tried out.

"Yeah, ya do," Eddie disagrees lightly, throwing his arm around my shoulder and grinning at me. I smile back up at him, and the uneasiness that has been churning in my belly ever since my stupid little spat with Walter stills, replaced by the happiness that only Eddie can seem to bring me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ugh. I really didn't like this chapter personally. It took me forever to write. I think my Watchmen muse might be on vacation or something. So if you didn't like this chapter, I can't really blame you since I didn't like it myself. But please read the next chapter and review!


	8. Eight

8. Ripples From the Past (Symmetry in the Darkness)

"Pst! Rylie!"

"_What?"_

"Are you awake?"

I lean up from under the covers and search out Eddie in the darkness. "No, this is me talking in my sleep," I tell him sarcastically.

"Well, wake up! We're going on patrol!" Eddie retorts; in the moonlight shining through the window, his eyes glitter excitedly.

I gape at him. "Eddie...We haven't done that-"

"In years, I know! Which is why we should do it now!"

"Eddie, what if we get caught?"

"Who cares? We got caught all the time in New York."

"What if we run into actual trouble?"

"Then we'll have a story to tell, won't we?" he replies, grinning at me as he stands up in a mischievous, triumphant way.

_"Eddie!" _I growl sharply and then blink as he presses a finger to my lips.

"Shh. You'll wake the neighbors," he murmurs, nodding his head in the direction of Malcom's room. I give him a half-desperate, half-pissed look but get to my feet, too.

_~r.~_

"Ugh, it's frickin cold," I mutter, pulling my jacket closer to me.

"Stop complaining and c'mere," Eddie replies and wraps an arm around me, pulling me close to warm me up.

"Man, this is beautiful," I breathe quietly, admiring the snowbound cityscape.

"Yeah. Prettier out at your place, though. You can see the stars," Eddie comments, glancing at me. I look back at him and, almost unconsciously, we both stop. My heart starts thundering in my chest; I'm sure he can hear it. Suddenly I'm aware of every touch and movement like they've started sending jolts of electricity across my nerve endings or something.

Eddie pulls his arm from around me, but his fingers trail down to my hand and twine with mine. I stare at him, completely entranced...

That is, until alarmed shouts and howls from somewhere closeby break into the moment.

For a split second, I am furious and heartbroken- after all of these years, I had been prepared to bust a move, dammit! But it's gone a second later- those are the sounds of a fight. Someone is in trouble.

Eddie and I exchange a glance, and in that short exchange I can almost hear the conversation we're having without words:

_"Should we go?"_

_"Hell's yeah!" _

_"This is not a game! This is for real!" _

_"All the more reason to go."_

_"I'm scared."_

_"I know, baby, it's okay. I'm right here and I'm not leaving." _

And then we're off running. I'm faster (I've always been faster), but Eddie keeps pace with me anyway, sticking close to my side just like he always has.

We follow the yelps and cries to an alleyway, where we both skid to a halt and peer in cautiously. Before us, illuminated by the light of the moon, two men scuffle. One man is short and compact and vicious. The other man is about to lose even though he is much bigger. But that's not what has me rooted helplessly to the spot.

The short man's face is black-and-white, swirling, symmetrical. I try to make myself that it's just the play of moonlight and shadow but I can't.

"Rorschach?" I gasp at the same time the bigger man falls, beaten, to the ground.

Rorschach turns and though I can't see his face I know he's glaring at me. I can feel it like fire on my skin. And then, the weirdest thing happens. A split second after his anger, I feel fear and shock run through me like a jolt of electricity. It's not mine; somehow I know it's his. In my head, I hear thunder, like a memory, rolling across my brain.

"Get out of here. Not safe," he growls fiercely, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Rorschach," I breathe, taking a step toward him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Eddie protests, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. "Are you completely insane?" he hisses in my ear. "Did you not just see him beat the shit outta that guy?"

"But it's _Rorschach!_" I hiss back. Some part of me realizes the stupidity of my excitement; I know this guy is dangerous. But there is something about him, something so achingly familiar, that I can't help feeling drawn to him in the moment.

Eddie blinks, looking startled, as if he's just realized the strangeness, the impossibility, of the situation. Then he turns back to Rorschach. "Are you really Rorschach?" he asks.

Rorschach doesn't reply and that is answer enough. But I can feel his anger smoldering under the surface.

"But...you're dead!" Eddie exclaims.

"Do I look dead?" Rorschach snaps. "Now get away." I can still feel his anger and his fear, how much he wants us to leave.

But I have just now noticed something. _No, _I think, horrified. _No, it can't be._ And I am rooted to the spot again with disbelief.

"C'mon, Rylie," Eddie mutters in my ear, tugging on my arm. But I don't move. I can't. "Rylie, come _on!" _Eddie hisses and finally manages to start dragging me away.

_~r.~_

When Eddie and I were nine, we got ahold of his parents' old newspaper clippings. It was on a warm spring afternoon and Malcom was out picking up his girlfriend, Samantha, from work. We were up in his dad's room sitting by the window, scavanging through a cardboard box filled with old magazines and newspapers and paperbacks.

"Ooh, Rylie, look at this!" Eddie exclaimed, turning to me and pointing to a yellowing newspaper article which posed the question "Reds Infiltrated Military Base?"

"What are Reds?" I wondered curiously.

"I don't know," Eddie responded, mystified. "Hey, look at this!" he exclaimed after scanning the page. I leaned over his shoulder and saw what he was pointing at- an "r" with a backward "r" in front of it and two dots before and after the "r"s.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know," Eddie replied and then looked at me when he heard the front door open and close. "C'mon. We'll ask Malcom."

The two of us jumped up and scrambled down the stairs, tripping over our own feet in our clumsy haste. "Malcom! Malcom!" we chorused loudly.

"Yes?" Malcom, who was sitting on the living room couch with Samantha, replied, giving us an amused, indulgent smile.

"What does this mean?" Eddie asked, handing his stepbrother the newspaper and pointing out the strange symbol.

Immediately upon seeing the "r"s, the smile disappeared from Malcom's face. "Where did you get this?" he demanded, looking at us in alarm.

"It was in a box in Daddy's room," Eddie replied, not noticing or ignoring the change in Malcom.

"Mason Edward Hollis, you know what happened the last time you started snooping in Dad's things," Malcom scolded.

Last month, Eddie had found a strange gun in his dad's closet. He had fired it, and a strange hook attached to a long, metal cord had shot out and broke through the window. Eddie had been grounded for the rest of that month.

"Yeah, but this is a newspaper! What's wrong with a newspaper!" Eddie demanded boldly.

Malcom grimaced. "Your father is going to murder me," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Eddie and I exchanged excited glances, knowing we had won.

"This symbol stands for Rorschach," Malcom told us reluctantly.

"Rorschach?" I repeated, rolling the word around in my mouth, passing it over my tongue. I liked how it felt in my mouth.

"What's Rorschach?" Eddie inquired, screwing up his face at the unfamiliar word.

"Rorschach was a crimefighter back in your daddy's time," Malcom explained.

"Ooh, back when he was Nite Owl?"

Malcom nodded. "Yes. Rorschach and Dad were partners, you see, up until about '77 when the Keene Act was passed."

"Did Rorschach retire like Daddy?"

But Malcom shook his head gravely. "No," he said. "He stayed a crimefighter up until the day he died."

Eddie's eyes grew wide with excitement. "That's so cool! I wanna be like Rorschach!" he announced.

Malcom looked at his stepbrother disapprovingly. "Now, Eddie. Just because he was a crimefighter doesn't mean he was a hero," he said warningly.

"But he was Daddy's friend, wasn't he?" Eddie protested, confused.

"I don't know if I would call them friends," Malcom muttered darkly.

"And why not?" someone challenged from the doorway. All of us whipped around to see Eddie's parents standing there, both of them looking frighteningly mad; Sam, the one who had spoken, had a look of thunder on his face as he glared at Malcom.

"What are you telling them, Malcom?" Sandra demanded, gazing with furious disbelief at her adopted son.

"It's okay, Mommy. Malcom was just telling us about you friend, Rorschach," Eddie said helpfully.

"Well, he shouldn't be. Eddie, take Rylie to your room and play," Sandra replied, keeping her gaze locked accusingly on Malcom. Eddie and I exchanged a confused, apprehensive glance and retreated from the tension in the room.

That night, Eddie and I dressed up in costumes and snuck out of the house to pretend to be vigilantes.

"C'mon, Rorschach. Follow me," Eddie muttered to me seriously.

"Wait, why am _I _following?" I demanded indignantly.

"Cuz, you're the sidekick," Eddie answered, sounding surprised that I should have to ask.

"Rorschach wasn't Nite Owl's sidekick, they were partners!" I protested.

"Yes, well, _you _are _my _sidekick," Eddie said loftily.

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

Eddie leaped at me and we were both sent backward into a dark, cool alleyway. We wrestled around on the ground for a few minutes until he resorted to tickling me. I squeaked and tried to squirm away but he wouldn't let me.

"Okay, okay!" I finally gasped in defeat. And in that moment, there was a loud commotion behind us, deeper in the blackness of the alley. We both stopped, turning our alarmed eyes quickly to peer into the darkness. After a long silence, there came footsteps...

With squeals of fear, we both scrambled to our feet and raced back to the house.

_~r.~_

Sam and Sandra had been up and ready to go look for us when we'd barrelled in through the door. We'd both be scolded (I had gotten a verbal beating from both Eddie's parents and mine)and grounded for a long time.

Of course, all of that time cooped up and forbidden to hang out together resulted in an explosion of excitement and daring when we'd reunited. The very first night we'd hung out togther, we went on "patrol again. And got caught again.

But we had never seen anything.

Certainly nothing as exciting as Rorschach.

"Oh my God, can you believe that? Eddie babbles when we creep back into his house. "I mean, was that even real?"

I am unable to respond. I yank off my jacket and jeans to throw on my more comfortable shorts and wrap myself in a blanket. Away from Rorschach and his fire, I am unbelieveably cold.

"Hey." Eddie curls up close to me, wrapping his arms around me. "What's wrong?" he asks gently.

"I'm cold," I reply absently.

"Hey, it's alright., you know. We're alright," he says with a reassuring smile.

But I am not alright. Either Rorschach has the exact same purple pinstripe pants and trenchcoat as Walter or...

My mind instantly shies away from the idea, but I force myself to think it.

Is Walter really Rorschach?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so...yeah. I know there was something I had to say. Damn. I always do this... Well, whatever. Read and review. :)


	9. Nine

NOTE: This is much better than the last two chapters (in my opinion at least). Warning for dropping the f-bomb ;) Please, read on.

9. Spider's Web

_**Rylie**_

It's Tuesday. My stomach is twisting itself into anxious knots without my permission. In less than ten minutes, school will be over and it will be time for me to walk. Usually this makes me happy because school sucks.

But not today. Definately not today.

Yesterday I had walked all the way to Wendy's without seeing Walter. But what if I'm not as lucky today? _You are a fucking coward, _I think to myself furiously. _You guys got into a little meaningless and, quite frankly, idiotic scrap and now all of a sudden you think he hates your guts!_

But that isn't the reason I'm scared of seeing him. Not really.

I think back to Sunday night, back to when Eddie and I had seen Rorschach in that alley, standing there like some ghost made flesh. I can picture his clothes so clearly in my mind, illuminated by the moonlight. And, farther back but still vivid in my mind, the first time I had ever laid eyes on Walter. His clothes matching the clothes that Rorschach had been wearing.

_He's gotten new clothes since then, _I think. _Maybe Rorschach stole Walter's clothes, _I add without much humor.

These thoughts are deafening and exhausting; they're all I have room for in my brain right now. I've been going around in these tiring circles since Sunday night and I've realized that there's really only one way to end it. I hate it. I absolutely hate the idea. Because I'm afraid of meeting Walter again and not being able to see his face anymore. All I will see is Rorschach standing before me. And I don't want that. _Not my brick wall! _my mind wails agonizingly.

It almost makes me sick to think that innocent, awkward little Walter could possibly be Rorschach. Walter, the only one besides Eddie who's ever listened to my conspiracy stuff, the only one who's ever cared.

But I have to know the truth. I have to ask Walter. I hope that he will laugh off my theory (not that I've ever seen him laugh before), tell me I'm crazy. I want to be crazy. It would make this so much easier.

The bell rings and I'm still not ready. Half of me wants to leave, to hunt down Walter and demand he tell me the truth. The other half violently opposes this idea. But I have no choice.

I step cautiously out of the school, my eyes searching the grounds warily. He's not here. I can breathe easier. Slipping on my headphones, I start walking, except this time I keep my head up, my eyes alert.

There is no sign of him when I cross the street near Wendy's, and I am just starting to feel the first inklings of true relief when I see him. He is walking in the opposite direction and hasn't seen me. My heart thunders in my chest. _This is it, _I think grimly. Quickly, I run to catch up with him.

"Walter!" I call and he turns. Instantly, I am disappointed. His blue eyes are guarded and cool, indifferent to me. I can almost feel him pushing me away. But I push away the sadness and throw him a firm glare. "Follow me," I murmur quietly, marching past him. I don't look back to see if he's following. There is a backalley around here somewhere. We need to be someplace where no one will hear us. Even if we're not friends, I still feel the need to protect him. If he is Rorschach.

Once I'm in the alley, I turn and see that Walter has indeed followed me. His gaze is unfriendly. "What do you want?" he asks and then goes on to say, "I don't need to meet with you anymore."

I wince at his cutting words but I try not to show how much they hurt. "Whatever you want. But I have something to ask you," I reply and then fall silent. How do I say what's on my mind? Where do I begin?

As the silence stretches on, Walter glares at me impatiently. "Well, say it," he growls gruffly.

"Okay!" I snap and then sigh. "On Sunday night, I saw something...some_one_," I correct. Walter stiffens. I watch his expression but it gives nothing away. Slowly, I continue. "I think...well, I think it was Rorschach." There. I've said it.

Something flickers across Walter's face, so fast that I can't read it. But then it settles on a disbelieving, bordering-on-condescending expression. "But he's dead," he says.

"Not if I saw him last night," I retort, irritated by his tone.

Walter shakes his head. "Rorschach is dead. You were just mistaken," he replies.

I glare at him. "No, I was not mistaken! I know what I saw, okay?"

"Okay, fine. But what if it was just someone dressed up as Rorschach? It couldn't have been the actual Rorschach."

"Where would anyone find a mask like that?" I demand and then sigh, trying to get ahold of my anger. "Look. I know what I saw. I was out on the north end of town and I saw him beating up this guy in an alley."

Walter's eyes narrow. "What were you doing out at night anyway?" he demands, his voice scathing. "It's too dangerous to go out at night no matter where you are or who you're with!"

I clench my teeth, glaring indignantly at him. "Look, I-" I cut off, blinking in shock, going over his words in my head. And then I look at him. "What do you mean 'who you're with'?" I ask in a quiet voice.

Walter's eyes darken, his expression flat and immediately closed off. "I'm wasting my time here," he growls and turns away.

But I refuse to let him leave. "I never told you I was with anyone," I protest.

No response.

"How come you just assumed I wasn't alone, huh?" I demand, chasing after him.

No response.

"It's cuz you were there, wasn't it?"

"I was _not _there," Walter replies in a low snarl, still walking away from me.

"You're Rorschach, aren't you?" I persist, grabbing his arm.

The moment that I touch him, he swings around, grabbing me by the front of my jacket and slamming me into the alley wall. I gasp as the breath is driven out of my lungs. Pain sears up and down my spine. My heart hammers furiously in my chest.

Walter glares furiously into my eyes and they are no longer like ice. They are like blue flames, hot and searing. I shrink back against the wall, trembling. I know I should probably fight back, but I can't.

"I wasn't there," he growls in a low voice. I cringe as his hot breath brushes against my face; I haven't noticed until just now how much he stinks.

_I have never known this man, not ever, _I think, and the pain of that realization is almost as strong as the fear.

"I don't ever want to see you again, Rylie," he says. His words send a sharp jab of pain through my body, the sharpest pain of all. Because somehow, instead of using my real name like he always does, this new use of my nickname means the end. I can almost hear the loud snap, like a breaking bone, behind his words.

"Do you understand me?"

Yes, I understand. I understand perfectly well. I nod wordlessly; I'm unable to find my voice. His eyes stare into mine for a second longer and then he drops me. My legs shake unsteadily and I crumple to the ground. He turns and walks away without another word, and I am left trembling in the alley with tears that refuse to go away and also refuse to fall.

_**Rorschach**_

Adrenaline rushes viciously through bloodstream, pushing forward, driving. Music pounds somewhere closeby. Am gaining on culprit. Will make him pay.

Child abuser, filthy scum. Never gone to prison for crimes. Won't have to once I'm through with him. Hospital won't have him either. Only place for him is morgue. Found him coming out of bar, not drunk but not sober. Saw me and took off running. Knows what's coming to him. Good.

Finally, corner him in between two buildings so close together he can't fit through to escape. Whites of his eyes roll wildly in sockets, watch me then dart away to search for esacpe. But there is none. Not for any of us.

"Please...don't do this, man. I have a family," he begs.

Shake my head. "No, you don't," I answer. "You have children and a wife. Not a family. Don't treat them like family. Don't treat them like humans. Hit your wife until she's unconscious. Beat your kids until neighbors come over to see what screaming is all about. Make them cover their bruises so no one will know."

Each word spoken makes fear worse for him. Knows what is coming and knows it is bad. Fury pulses through me like uncontrollable fire. Hatred I can't control.

Step toward him. In last effort to escape with pathetic life, he tries to dart around me. Grab him by the neck and throw him against wall. Watch with burning anger as he tries to crawl away. Scrambles to his feet, tries to limp away. No. Not anymore.

I leap at him, send him to the ground, start punching. Am not aware of time passing. Am not aware of anything except painful burning in my system, and the need to get rid of it.

Hit him until his face resembles red mush of nothing. Beat him into the ground, where he makes dirty red pattern on cement. Punch him until knuckles sing with pain and still don't stop. Don't stop until fire is gone.

Finally, when nothing is left but cold, stand and look down at mess I've made. Blood is on my hands. Look down at them, examine the way light from the moon makes it seem less red, less like blood. Everything here is an illusion, a web of lies no one can escape from. I watch the filth of this earth get trapped by the web, absorbed by it, wriggling like flies. They scream but no one hears. No one hears but me.

Wash blood from my hands in puddle nearby. Walk away from dead man with ice in my veins.

I do what I can to rid the world of filth. The spiders will take care of the rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah, yes. We see Walter's dark side make an appearance (yay!) I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please read and review.


	10. Ten

NOTE: Warning for Rylie's pottymouth ;)

10. Fire and Ice

_**Rylie**_

It's been two weeks. I haven't seen Walter, not even from far away. _Good riddance, _I keep trying to tell myself. But with Walter gone, there's no one to conspire with, no one to indure the horrors on Infowars with. Sure, Eddie knows about the government and supports my "spread the word" plan. But he's always busy with sports and we don't usually get to see each other very often anymore. And Emmi...well, Emmi likes to bury her hand in the sand and pretend everything will turn out okay in the end. She doesn't listen to me because it scares her.

I have been forced to admit to myself that I feel terribly alone without Walter.

It's gonna snow tomorrow. But I can't possibly feel any colder.

_**Rorschach**_

I sigh heavily, pulling off my mask and tucking it into a cubby hole in the wall of the warehouse. Far from the windows that overlook downtown Lawrence, I curl up in a corner of the building, wrap myself in my trenchcoat, and sink gratefully into sleep.

But when I sleep, I dream.

I am standing on a ship, looking out over the railing. It is nighttime, but the ocean is lit by the glitter of countless stars and I can clearly see for miles. Down on the ocean, churning on the waves, are boats. Hundreds of little lifeboats sinking into the inky silver-and-blackness of the water. Everybody on them is screaming, scrambling over their slowly sinking boats to keep alive.

I want to save them. I _have _to save them. But how? There's no way I can save all of them. Not alone.

And that's the moment that I realize I'm _not _alone. There is someone standing next to me. I turn to them, my eyes wide with desperation. Cadence stares back at me, her expression soft and peaceful, mouth curved into an almost-smile. All of her is pale, white, like mist- her clothes, her skin, her eyes. She shimmers, like static on a TV screen.

Her smile grows as she meets my gaze and reaches out to take my hand. I shudder and pull my hand from the warm smoothness of hers, but just before I do, two things happen simultaneously. Cadence's form solidifies, fills with color, and the lifeboats stop sinking. When I pull my hand from her grasp, she returns to the ghostly whiteness and the boats continue their sinking.

I blink and then turn back to Cadence; she smiles at me and offers her hand again, her expression open and welcoming. Slowly, I reach out and take her hand, and a soft, comforting warmth spreads through me, filling me like fire, like sunlight.

Cadence smiles brilliantly at me as the color fills her again. Her ghostly touch becomes solid as her fingers wrap tightly with mine. Then she nods to the ocean below us meaningfully and I turn. In the water, the boats have stopped sinking again and the people have lifted their tired, weathered faces to us. The expressions on their faces mirror each other's- hopeful, exalted, thankful. Then they raise their arms to the stars and cheer.

"Walter." I turn to Cadence and she gives me a soft, relieved look. "You know what you have to do," she says and then leans close to me. I want to lean away, but I find I can't move. I feel her breath warm on my face as she whispers, "You want to save them. But you can't do it alone."

And then she is fading, fading away. Her touch becomes ghostly once more and she fades until I can see through her. Until I can no longer see her at all. And she takes the heat with her. I am becoming colder, colder...shivering...

I blink open my eyes. Cold, gray sunlight is filtering in through the windows. Snow is falling in thick flakes out past the glass panes, and I can feel the cold seeping in through the cracks in the walls, through the floorboards. I shiver and pull my coat closer to me, trying to shake off the last vestiges of my dream. But it clings to me, unwilling to let go.

_"You want to save them. But you can't do it alone..."_

_Yes, I can, _I argue stubbornly. _I don't need anybody else._

And yet I haven't been keeping up with the news on Infowars. I haven't been able to. I have no computer and no way to use one. Cadence did, and she had background knowledge, too, that was very helpful.

_But I don't need her. I never did._

_"You can't do it alone..."_

"Shut up," I mutter, pressing my fist to my forehead as if I can somehow push the echoed words away. The cold seeps in through my skin, deep into my bones, and I tremble, fighting against it.

The feeling of her warmth comes back to me then. Disgusted, I try to ignore it...but I can't ignore how it made me feel important, made me feel needed. Like I belonged somewhere in this world that I don't fully understand.

I remember their screams...The screams of millions of people, all drowning in the ocean, trying to hold on with their last scraps of strength to the lifeboats...

And we were on the ship, Cadence and I...a ship that was not sinking...

And when her hand was in mine, the others had been saved...

_"You know what you have to do..." _

"Damn you, Rylie," I snarl under my breath. I don't even bother caring that I never use this kind of language. Pushing myself to my feet, I quickly change into my street clothes and prepare myself to meet the one person I thought I would never see again.

"Damn you to hell."

_**Rylie**_

"Rylie? Rylie, are you listening?"

Startled, I look up at Emmi, who is glaring impatiently at me. "Sorry, Emmi. I guess I kinda spaced off there," I apologize flatly.

She shakes her head. "Honestly, one would think someone just died or something," she mutters and then an alarmed look crosses her face. "No one did, did they?"

"No, Emmi, nobody died," I assure her.

"Well, then, could you start paying a little more attention? I just told you that Eddie and Tanner are going out, and she's telling all her cheap whore friends that she's gonna try and...well, you know..." Emmi finishes uncomfortably. She doesn't like to talk about sex.

This wakes me up a little. "Wait. But they haven't, have they?" I ask, alert now.

Her expression softens, becoming sympathetic. "No, honey. Not yet," she says and then sighs. "I don't know why he keeps going out with all of these sluts. He should have better taste than that."

"He has to keep up his image," I mutter vengefully, inwardly thinking how bitter and bitchy I sound but not exactly caring.

Emmi watches me thoughtfully for a few moments and then says, "You know you could ask him out."

I gape at her. "Are you completely insane? I could never do that. He'd say no."

"How do you know?"

"Cuz he just would, alright? He can have any other girl he wants, he wouldn't pick me," I growl and then stand up. I've officially had enough of this conversation. Without another word, I pick up my tray with the food that I could only pick at and turn to leave.

My shoulder accidentally grazes someone else as I pass by. "Sorry," I mutter quietly without turning around.

"Hey."

I keep walking, thinking they must be talking to someone else.

Then they grab my shoulder. "Hey!"

I turn, surprised, to see the girl who I ran into. She glares at me with this bitchy look on her face. _Oh, boy, _I think wearily. _Here we go._

"When you run into somebody, you say 'sorry'," she says. Behind her, her friends gather and each give me stony glares. I just look at them all with a tired, "I-don't-really-give-a-shit" expression.

"I did," I reply and turn to leave without another word.

She pushes me from behind, hard enough to send me sprawling to the cafeteria floor, my uneaten food splattering against the tile. Excited, amused titters ripple through the cafeteria and I feel my face heat up. I look up at the girl, who stares back at me as if challenging me to say or do something. When I don't, she shakes her head scornfully and mutters, "Stupid white chick." Then she and her friends swagger away.

Before I can get up on my own, Eddie is there with Emmi. "Here. C'mon," he murmurs, helping me to my feet while Emmi takes my tray away. He holds onto my arm as we walk down to the bathroom. "I'll wait out here for you," he tells me as I turn to go inside. "Wait!" I turn back to him and watch as he takes off his hoodie and hands it to me. "Your shirt's kinda fucked up, sweetheart," he tells me apologetically when I give him a startled look.

In the bathroom mirror, I see what he means. There is spaghetti sauce all over the front of my white lace shirt, looking disturbingly like blood on fresh-fallen snow. Quickly I peel off my shirt, hating the uncomfortable stickiness, and pull on Eddie's hoodie. I can't help breathing in his warm, familiar scent and feeling calmer somehow.

It's a long two hours after that. People keep staring, muttering behind my back. I hate it. I just want to leave.

When I finally do, I slip on my headphones and disappear from the rest of the world. It's like finally breathing out when you've been holding your breath for a very long time. It has snowed throughout the day, and on the way to Hastings it soaks into the bottoms of my jeans, which are too long for me. _Yep. This day is just going _divinely, I think sarcastically.

When I step into Hastings, I head for the CDs. I'm not really in the mood to slip my notes into books. Besides, it reminds me of Walter and I don't want to think about him, especially not today.

Of course, luck is never really on my side.

"You should hem those pants," says a quiet, frighteningly familiar voice behind me. I turn, my heart thundering in my chest, and see him. His eyes are guarded and wary, but not angry like the last time I saw them. _What are you doing here? _I want to ask. But my mouth isn't working right.

"I could do that for you," he continues unwillingly, looking grumpily away from me. I feel a brief flare of anger- why come to me at all if he's just gonna behave like some irritated old bear.

I finally discover my voice. "You're a seamstress?" I ask in a smartass tone, feigning disbelief.

He glares at me. "_No. _Just know how to sew, that's all," he growls.

"Oh, so you're telling me that, along with breaking bones and throwing people against brick walls, you know how to sew?" I respond and then shake my head in mock amazement. "Man, you are talented."

"Just thought I could help-"

"_Oh! _Okay! Well, here, just let me yank off my pants right now!" I exclaim sarcastically, placing my fingertips on the hem of my jeans.

"Stop that!" Walter snaps, grabbing my arm and nearly yanking it out of its socket as he drags me into the music section.

Nobody else is there; I realize this with a jolt of brief panic as I struggle from his grip. "Let me go!" I protest, swinging wildly away from him and backing into a glass case; the pane and the guitars inside rattle.

"Calm down," he growls impatiently. "You act like I'm about to murder you."

"Well you haven't given me much to reassure me you won't," I retort.

A flicker of guilt passes across his ice blue eyes, but it's gone a heartbeat later, replaced by indifference. "I've come back because I need to know about the government and you're the only person I know with a computer," he begins formally. I gape at him, instantly hurt. "I can't get enough accurate information from newspapers and-"

"So you come barging in here, throwing me around, because you want to use my _computer_?" I interrupt. Walter watches me, emotionless, and I shake my head. "Do you have any idea _at all _how to act around people? I mean, do you even care?" I demand.

He just stares at me. "Doesn't matter. It's not important," he replies coldly.

I gape at him. "You are a fucking asshole," I whisper, shocked. Feeling strangely numb, I try to move around him but he blocks my path.

"Hey," he growls. "I need your help."

I whip my head up to mutter fiercely, "No, you don't. And even if you did I wouldn't give it to you. I have better things to do than hang out with some prick who doesn't give a shit about me." With that, I push past him, preparing to storm off.

"Should've known you'd react that way. All women are the same."

I stop, feel a prickle of heat travel up my spine. It gets under the skin at the back of my neck and crackles like fire. I turn and face him. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask in a soft voice, taking a step toward him.

He meets my gaze steadily with narrowed eyes. "You say you want to oppose the government and rebel against the system. But you can't get past your own selfish emotions," he hisses scornfully.

"_I'm _being selfish? _I'm _the one who's been nice to you despite the fact that you're some freak who, apparently, doesn't give a shit about anyone besides yourself!" I shout. People are staring but I don't care; I'm too heated.

Walter leans toward me and hisses, "If you don't want to help me, fine. I shouldn't have to rely on a whore anyway."

I let out a little gasp of shock and take a step backwards, reeling from the whiplash. "Whore?" I squeak out in a tiny voice, but Walter doesn't say anything else as he brushes past me and marches away.

I've never really fought with anyone before except Eddie. I haven't because I don't want people to dislike me. Whenever someone says or does something I don't agree with I just keep my mouth shut and look the other way. Even with the papers I slip into books- I don't outright tell people about the government. I go about it through covert, silent ways. I don't stand up for fear of standing alone.

_Walter was right, _I realize brokenly. _I let my emotions get in the way. I'm nothing but a coward. _

The despair settles over me then, despite my feeble attempts to fight it, and I lean against the wall while the silent sobs rack my body.

_**Rorschach**_

I don't need her. I will find my own way. I always have. I still don't remember all of my life before this but I do know that I always felt alone. It will be no different now.

And I won't be so stupid, so naive, anymore, either. _It was just a dream. It was just some dream that I had and it didn't mean anything. I was a fool to think it did, _I tell myself disgustedly.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I let the chill, frosty breeze cut through me and alleviate the fire in my veins.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ahh, I love writing chapters like this :) Hope you enjoyed reading it. Next chapter should be fairly awesome as long as I follow the outline :P Reviews are always much appreciated!


	11. Eleven

NOTE: The two songs for this chapter are Time is Running Out by Muse and Sweet Dreams by Emily Browning (which, by the way, is in the Sucker Punch soundtrack which has AMAZING music on it you HAVE TO LISTEN! :D )

They Say Quitters Never Win (But We Walk the Plank on a Sinking Ship)

_**Rorschach**_

I keep having the same dream. The one where I'm standing on the ship with Cadence. Except in these dreams I don't take her hand. Cadence fades away and the people drown. And everytime I wake up their screams still echo in my head, begging me to help them.

I'll help them. But I'll do it on my own.

I still haven't found a computer. The ones they offer in the library are all traced; if I get onto sites like Infowars on those computers the government will trace it. I don't need them knowing about me right now.

I buy newspapers everyday. I sit in fastfood restaraunts that have TVs to catch up on the news. But they're not telling the whole truth, and I know this. I have to find the truth but the truth is hidden. I could look for the truth in books, but I would risk seeing Cadence and I can't have that. I could look for the truth in gang truthers, but I can't have too many people knowing I'm alive. Manhattan hasn't told me it's okay to reveal myself yet, so I've been using extra procaution when I'm Rorschach.

It's the first week of March. The winter is drawing to a close; I can feel the first subtle hints of warmth in the air. And I can feel the time slipping past me, faster and faster with each day. Time is running out.

_**Adrian**_

"Time's running out, Mr. Veidt."

"Yes, I know that, my dear. Have patience."

"Don't give me that 'my dear' bullshit, Veidt, we want results!"

I turn to Janet and fix her with a firm stare. "And you'll get results. But this must be perfected. It's too dangerous to rush into," I tell her. When she still looks unconvinced I sigh and try to steady myself. My own patience has been wearing thin these days. "Don't worry, Janet. I'm working on it."

"Work faster," she growls and there is something in her voice that instantly alarms me.

I blink at her. "Something's going to happen, isn't it?" She looks at me, guiltily now and my jaw drops. "You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Adrian, please."

"If you're planning something, I should know about it. I'm working on your goddamn pills, for Christ's sake!" I shout, fuming. How dare they keep something from me? _And how could I miss it? _a tiny voice asks but I shove it away.

"Adrian, calm down. It's not set in stone yet. We weren't going to do it until later, but...something's accelerated our plans." Janet's eyes cloud over darkly and I blink, reading the meaning behind her words.

"Are you talking about the Watchmen? Yes, I read about them. But they shouldn't pose any _real _threat-"

"It's not just them. Word is spreading and more and more people are going to that Alex Jones's website."

"You mean Infowars?"

"Yes. It seems that someone- don't ask me who- is spreading messages."

I narrow my eyes. "What kind of messages?"

"Whoever it is seems to be putting slips of paper into books, and these slips of paper seem to contain information- on us, on our plans... And they ask people to go to Infowars and Prisonplanet." Janet's lip curls just slightly and I can see the glittering, rotten hatred she has for the people in opposition to our plan. For a moment, I am uneasy- someone with that kind of contempt for humanity can't be trusted.

_But I've got this under control. I set this into motion. Without me, they wouldn't be nearly as close as they are now, _I reassure myself confidently. _I'm the smartest man in the world. I have everything under control. _

"Well, where are these messages stemming from originally?" I ask, confident now. Nothing can touch me.

"We're not sure yet, but wherever they come from they've spread as far as L.A. and Washington and even here, in New York. People have been finding these notes and then writing their own," she replies.

"Hm." I think for a moment and then shrug. "Well, whoever it is, they're determined, I'll give them that," I chuckle. "But really, Janet, this isn't a problem. They'll realize that they don't have any power to stop us and they'll soon cease their _antics. _Soon they'll see that this is all for the best."

Janet nods, but looks uneasy. I blink, confused, and am about to ask her why she seems so concerned when Jennifer knocks on the door. "Mr. Veidt? We just received news of Egypt's revolution. Mubarak resigned sixty-seven minutes ago," she says, her eyes shining with undisguised joy.

I can't help smiling at her innocence. _She is a fool, _I think affectionately. _A beautiful little fool. _

"That's great news, Jennifer, thank you," I reply.

"I really should be going. They'll want to discuss this and I should be there," Janet says briskly, striding past Jennifer, who holds the door open for her.

I narrow my eyes, reminded of her news. Something is going to happen. And she didn't tell me what.

_But she was right, _I think with a sigh, suddenly unimagineably tired as I sink into my chair. _Time _is _running out._

_**Rylie**_

"Rylie. Are you listening to me?"

I turn to my mom with my best detached, bored expression and say, "No."

Anger and hurt flashes across her face and I feel bad but not enough to apologize. "I don't even know how to talk to you anymore," she says indignantly.

"That's easy, just don't," I mutter, turning away to look out the window. We don't speak after that. She drops me off at school and I go about my day like usual.

It's getting warmer, and with the growing warmth comes a growing sense of urgency. I can't help feeling as though I'm under the watch, as though all of my actions are being timed. As if I'm in a race but I have no footing.

_Walter knocked my legs out from under me, _I think bitterly, readjusting the strap of my backpack on my shoulder as it cuts into my neck. Ever since our fight, I haven't been able to function quite as well, knowing he hates me, knowing he thinks I'm a _whore. _

I guess it shouldn't matter. I shouldn't be so concerned with what everybody thinks of me, but...I am. I hate it when somebody doesn't like me, especially when that someone used to be my friend.

It cuts deep and I don't know how to shoulder it.

The day drags on sluggishly, the seconds ticking by shamelessly slow. And yet it feels as though time is passing quickly, too quickly to perceive. My stomach twists itself into knots everytime I glance at the clock and see how much time has passed, see how much time hasn't passed...

No matter how slow the day seems, it always ends and time passes. And it is passing quickly.

When the final bell rings, I hurry outside. I don't want to talk to anybody. Slipping on my headphones, I start walking. I tune everything out and enter my own world, the world where things are perfect and everything makes sense.

But when I get to the stoplight and look up to watch for my turn to cross, I see the police car and the other car that's been pulled over. I see a crowd gathering as the woman in the car steps out, shouting at the officer. Quickly I cross the street, ignoring the cars that honk at me, and hurry over to the scene. It is near the alley where Walter slammed me into the wall, and I can't help thinking of this as I march over.

_Oh, shut up! Stop thinking of him! _I shout silently to myself and push through the crowd to get a good view.

"...and you think you can pull me over for _that?_ Shit, you gotta be kiddin' me!" the woman is shouting.

"Calm down!" But the officer is shouting, too. He's not calm and he's asking her to calm down?

It all happens very fast, and yet at the same time I see everything with perfect clarity. I see him lash out at her with his fist as if it's happening in slow motion. It catches her on the chin and sends her careening backwards into her car. People gasp around me, their eyes opening wide and filling with shock. I see the cop raise his fist, ready to deliver another blow, his face filled with disgust and a horrible kind of wildness. There is blood on his knuckles, speckling his white skin like bright red freckles.

The sound of the next punch sears through me and I flinch. Someone screams out in protest and I realize after a moment that it's me. The cop doesn't seem to hear, but instead falls on his victim, tearing into her like some kind of mindless animal. I back away until the view is obstructed by other witnesses.

My mouth is hanging open with shock. I close it numbly. Something is happening to me. I've read about police brutality but seeing it firsthand... Suddenly my problems seem insignificant. _This is no longer just about me. It never was, _I realize and a cold calm spreads through me. I feel stronger in that moment than ever before, knowing that I was never meant to live my life simply for me.

He comes up from behind me and stands at my side. We don't look at each other, still watching the scene in front of us. "There's nothing we could have done," I say quietly, still not looking at him.

"Not here. Not right now," he agrees.

"But there's still something we can do," I continue.

"Yes," he agrees.

I know he feels it, too. The sudden epiphany, that what we are working for is so much greater than either of us. Greater than our differences or our quarrels or our feelings.

"We have to stop this."

He nods. "We will."

_**Rorschach**_

That afternoon, after seeing the woman beaten by the police officer and coming to terms with Cadence, I am ready for some nice, head-clearing brutality on patrol. In some ways I am glad that Cadence and I have come to an agreement. Not that we are anything more than allies now, but that's also for the best. Better that emotions and friendship don't get in the way. _This is bigger than either of us. We must deal with that. _

But when I reach into the cubby hole for my mask, I feel something else beneath my fingertips. Surprised, I pull it out and examine it. It looks like a gun, but instead of a regular muzzle there is a hook on the end.

Blinking, I am overcome by memory. I am standing in a large underground tunnel, lit by flickering lights and filled with the sounds of dripping water. A man is handing me the gun, smiling at me, his brown eyes clear and friendly and familiar. They feel like home.

A second later, the memory ends, but I am still reeling from the aftereffects. "Daniel," I gasp, suddenly remembering my partner. My friend.

Attached to the grappling hook gun is a paper. I rip it off and read what's written there.

_Things are going to start accelerating rapidly. You must be prepared. You will need this gun in your arsenal of weapons soon, but guns are not the only things you will need. Be prepared not only to teach but to be taught. Good luck._

_~ Jon _

I stand there for a long time, staring down at the letter in my hand, seeing the the words written there but no longer caring about their meaning. Gripping the letter in my fist, I look out the window at the night sky descending.

"Daniel..."

_**Adrian**_

_No! Please...don't come closer! _

But it does.

_Don't come for me! You can't have me!_

The world I'd tried to save was lost beyond recall. I was a horror; amongst horrors must I dwell.

_Please. Get away!_

Its dark and lurching mass filled all my vision. I saw the heads nailed to its prow, heard drunken laughter, encouragements barked from the decks above...

_No...no!_

Closer it came...closer...

Sitting up in bed, gasping for air, I grope frantically for the lamp on my bedside table.

"Mr. Veidt!" Hands grab my shoulders, try to calm me down. Nearly hissing with panic, I grab their hands and throw them away from me. They let out a little shriek of surprise as they hit the wall.

Half-blind with terror and confusion, I finally touch the switch on the lamp and tug. Light floods the room, illuminating myself tangled in my bedsheets, and Jennifer lying against the wall, staring at me in horror.

Immediately, shame and guilt washes over me and I feel heat rise to my face. "Oh, Jennifer. I'm so sorry," I exclaim, getting out of bed and extending a hand to help her up. After a moment of hesitation, she takes it and allows me to pull her to her feet.

"Are you okay, Adrian?" she asks quietly, and I can tell that she's genuinely concerned because she hardly ever calls me by my first name.

I feel a softening in my chest and I force a smile for her. "Yes, Jennifer. Just a nightmare," I reassure her.

She nods, smiling, relieved now. "We all have them," she replies. She is so easily convinced, so ready to swallow the lie. That's why I keep her around.

"So what is it, Jennifer?" I ask, knowing she wouldn't have woken me up for nothing. Over the years since the formation of my utopian society, I have started sleeping in my office (when I can sleep, that is), so I've kept a bed here. When I sleep here, Jennifer knows not to wake me unless it's very important.

"Oh, right. Well, I just received a call from Ms. Napolitano. She said that they've just received notice of a code blue in Lawrence, Kansas," she tells me, looking puzzled but not asking questions.

I grow still, my heartbeat speeding up. Code blue means that we've picked up Jon's signature on radar. Irrationally, I am reminded of my nightmare, of the hideous ship bearing down on me, encouraging me to swim to it, to grab hold of the rope and climb aboard...

The old familiar panic fills me. I've had the dream ever since the first time I killed a man, when I had first started going about my plan. It's been growing more potent, more terrible, lately.

"Mr. Veidt?" Jennifer lays a hand on my shoulder, looking at me, concerned again.

I am just barely able to control my terror. "Call Ms. Napolitano back and tell her to send in eyes and ears. Now. We must get this under control _now _before it gets any worse." _And maybe then I can get some sleep, _I think selfishly. I won't have to see the ship's terrible hull, the skulls, the torn, sea-blackened flesh reaching out to me...

My eyes flash open, trying to banish the image. "They must be stopped!" I gasp, and though I have no idea what my words mean, I know that somehow they make sense. My intuition knows more of my dreams than my mind.

"O-okay," Jennifer says, nodding, and stumbles away from me, out the door into the main office.

Holding my head in my hands, I try to calm my beating heart. Outside, it starts to rain, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. A storm is coming. God forbid we aren't ready for it.

_Sweet dreams are made of this_

_Who am I to disagree?_

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so if you've read the graphic novel (and if you haven't you HAVE TO!) you'll probably recognize that some parts of Adrian's dream are excerpts from "The Black Freighter" which I do not own. Also, (and just because I am majorly obsessed with the soundtrack right now) I'm going to encourage you again to check out Emily Browning's version of Sweet Dreams because it is INTENSE. I don't like the original, but I love her version. So, yeah. That's my little rant for the day. Please review :)


	12. Twelve

NOTE: Okay, first off, I would just like to thank all of you awesome people who are reading and reviewing, it really means a lot that you give my story the time of day ;) Now, this chapter is a bit long. Some of it might be a bit slow, some of it will (hopefully) be exciting. But please keep in mind this is a transition chapter to get to the theoretical epic-ness. :D Oh, and song of the chapter is Wild Child by Enya.

12. Long We Have Stood Alone, Now We Are Partners in Crime

Manhattan was right. Time speeds up to a breathless pace, so fast it's almost miraculous. The week after reconciling with Cadence is very busy, and at the end of each day my head is still reeling.

The first day, Cadence and I meet at Wendy's and spend all of our time there writing out notes. She says that I'm a good writer; she's better and I tell her. Our conversations are stilted and awkward, but I find a fierce kind of satisfaction in it; we get more work done without the pleasantries.

That first day we write out almost fifty notes, and when I head out on patrol that night my hands hurt when I ball them into fists. I'm convinced I now have carpal tunnel.

The second day, Cadence meets me in the morning, walking to school from Dunkin Donuts. She tells me she gets out early in the afternoon so we'll have plenty of time to distribute our notes. Then she hands me the computer and says if I break it I'll owe her six hundred dollars and three years worth of writing. She's only half-joking.

I spend the day in McDonald's, waiting for Cadence and scanning through Infowars. Of course, it doesn't take me long to get sidetracked. Daniel is on my mind; I have to find him. I type in his name to see what comes up, but there's not much.

Hurm.

Wasting no time, I type in the words "nite owl" and click on the first link that pops up. It takes me to an online newspaper article entitled "The Nite Owl Flies Again". There is a picture of the owlship and beneath, a caption dated August 1st, 1994. The breath catches in my throat, nearly choking me. He kept patrolling? An unexplainable warm feeling flutters in my stomach, and I feel a strange urge to smile. It's immediately followed by a jolt of cold fear. Patrolling _alone? _

My hands shriek in protest, still sore from writing so much yesterday, as I squeeze them into nervous fists. I continue to search the internet, hoping for but also fearing any news about Daniel. My heart pounds hotly in my chest each time I open a new page, fearing to see any news of his death, and then feeling light-headed each time I learn of the contrary. In the back of my mind, I realize that Daniel must have been avoiding any and all notoriety; I can find plenty of articles on Nite Owl, but none on Daniel Dreiberg.

I lose track of time. I don't notice that it's a quarter to three until Cadence clears her throat at my side. I jump and a smile twitches at the corners of her mouth.

"It's usually you who sneaks up on me," she comments, amused. Her expression is tentatively friendly and hopeful; I ignore it.

"Lost track of time," I mutter, closing the pages and turning off the computer. When I look up at her again, her expression is shadowed with disappointment but she just nods her head toward the door and says, "We should hurry. My mom just called and said she gets off at four, so we only have an hour."

I nod, all business, and we head out. She wears her headphones around her neck with the volume turned up to full so we can both hear the music. I look at her curiously, allowing myself a question. "Why do you always listen to your music?"

She looks back at me; her eyes flicker quickly with surprise and then relax into an open, easy brightness. "You see, the trouble with life is there's no background music. And so I have to make my own," she explains, offering me a smile.

I nod wordlessly and turn to stare straight ahead. Though I try to tune it out, her music still weaves into my thoughts, and I realize that I like it. It is a very diverse range of genres and types, but all very beautiful in unique ways.

And then I hear a song that sends a flood of icy chill through me, while at the same causing my chest to heat up with a fluttery, nostalgic joy. "What's this one?" I ask sharply and then try to control my agitation.

Cadence blinks at me. "Wild Child by Enya," she answers. "Why?"

"No reason," I lie. "It just sounds familiar, that's all." I hope I don't sound as defensive as I feel. She doesn't look convinced but doesn't pursue an answer. Smart of her. When we arrive at Hastings we get immediately to work, and are successfully able to distribute all of our notes. She buys us both a coffee, and when she hands the clerk the money I notice there's writing on it.

"Did you write on that?" I ask curiously.

She nods, smiling at me. "It says 'Join the Resistance Movement' and then at the bottom I put links to Infowars and Prisonplanet," she explains, sounding proud.

I nod to her, looking away. "Good thinking," I respond, allowing no emotion to show through.

That morning after patrol, in the short hours of sleep I can grab, that song tangles in my dreams.

The third day, Cadence catches me unprepared again. We meet at Wendy's, and I inwardly groan when she suggests we write more notes today. "How can you keep writing so much?" I demand, unthinkingly following her to the front counter.

She flashes me a wry smile. "Years of practice," she answers and orders her food.

After she hands the cashier her money, I lean over and whisper, "You write on it?"

"Of course I did! You don't think I'm an idiot, do you?" she exclaims and then narrows her eyes. "No, no. Don't answer that." I almost chuckle but I save myself in time.

When we go back to our table, at first we just work and eat in silence. But then Cadence surprises me. "So...are you really Rorschach?"

I stop and stiffen, looking up at her in shock. She is looking at me with a timid but openly concerned expression. I glare at her. "It's not any of your business," I snap. Which I realize, as I'm saying it, is pretty much a clear and concise _yes. _

Her eyes flash with anger; she narrows them and leans across the table to hiss, "It _is _my business so long as we're working together, now give me a straight answer or I leave right now."

My mind shrieks at me to retaliate, but I am momentarily dumbfounded. The way her mouth is set in that stubborn line, the way her eyes bore directly into mine, unblinking... _She's more confident, _I think, and though it rankles to realize, I also feel an unexpected rush of wry pride for this change in her. I search her face for any signs of a bluff but she gives nothing away. _It's as if she knows I can't walk away, _I think and twitch my lips to hide the sarcastic smile curving the corners of my mouth.

"Alright, but keep your voice down," I growl gruffly.

Cadence smiles and leans back, nodding. "Okay," she agrees, automatically lowering her voice. Her eyes burn with curiousity and excitement at her brief victory. "Well? Are you?"

For a moment, I pause, remembering Manhattan's warning: _There is one more thing you will need, but you must be careful when you use it...You are supposed to be dead. _

_But she's already seen me as Rorschach. She's smart; she can put two and two together. It would take a lot of lying to dissuade her now, _I think. Besides, deep inside of me, my instincts whisper warnings that if I don't tell her, if I'm not honest with her, there might be trouble.

"Yes," I reply quietly, with clear reluctance. Silence greets my words, and as it stretches on I look up, wondering what she's thinking. She is staring down at the table and I can't see her expression. "Well? Why don't you say anything?" I snap, my voice made sharper by my anxiety.

"You were always my hero," she mumbles almost incoherently, and before I can respond her head snaps up and she looks at me with a confused, anxious expression. "How are you here?" she asks. "You're, like, only twenty!" she continues, her voice rising. Her confidence gone, confusion and disbelief take its place and I feel a flicker of satisfaction. I am in control again.

"Twenty-one next week," I reply with a smug smirk.

"Exactly! So how are you even here? You're supposed to be dead! And even if you weren't, you'd be as old as Eddie's dad!" she exclaims.

When she says that, a red flag seems to flicker alertly in my mind. I blink at her. "Eddie's dad?" I repeat; I don't even stop to ask who Eddie even is.

Cadence looks at me in surprise, hearing the change in my voice. "Yeah...Sam," she answers slowly, shrugging. My heart sinks with disappointment, and inwardly I sneer at myself. _Why would it be Daniel? Stupid, wishful thinking..._

"...don't even know how the hell this is even _possible!" _Cadence's words prod me from my letdown; she's continued with her frantic words. My amusement returns then and I feel powerful again.

"Cadence. Calm down. Some mysteries are better left mysteries," I interrupt and then return smugly to writing out notes.

She gapes at me. "Are you _joking?" _she shrieks.

"Your mother's here," I reply calmly, pointing out the window with my pen without looking up.

Cadence let's out an offended gasp and sits there for a moment, deliberating. Finally, she grabs her coat and backpack and stands up. "Fine. But this isn't over, _Walter,_" she sneers and I look up to see her blue eyes blaze furiously into mine. I return her gaze calmly. She glares at me a moment longer before slamming her chair into the table so hard it rattles.

The fourth day, Cadence meets me on the corner of 23rd and Louisiana. She stands with her arms crossed over her chest, staring challengingly at me. "Cadence," I greet her, nodding.

"I'm skipping school" is the first thing that comes out of her mouth.

I stare at her, shocked, and it takes me a moment to find my voice. "You're...skipping...school?" I repeat slowly.

"Did I stutter?" she replies scathingly.

"No, but...I thought you were supposed to be...you know..." I trail off, unsure of what I'm trying to say.

"What?"

"I don't know...a good kid?"

Cadence lets out a short bark of a laugh. "Yeah, well, the 'good kids' are just the ones who don't get caught. Look, I called myself in sick- nobody can tell the difference between my mom's voice and mine- so we can get shit done."

I am silent for a moment, staring at her in shock, and then I just grimace and shake my head. "Expected better from you, Cadence," I grumble. "And don't say that word."

Cadence blinks and draws back, looking surprised. "What word?"

"That word! The vulgar one you just used."

"Oh, you mean shi-"

"Yes, that one," I interrupt impatiently and start walking toward McDonald's.

She laughs, following. "Are you serious? Okay, first of all, _everyone _uses those words, and second of all, you can't tell me what to do," she argues and then shakes her head. "Okay, you know what, you're not gonna get me off topic. You're gonna finish the conversation we started yesterday."

She glares sternly at me until I growl impatiently. "Yes, alright, alright! Wait till we get to McDonald's," I grumble.

But we don't get to McDonald's. I hear the shouts at the same time Cadence does, and we both look at each other in alarm. We don't say anything, and privately I can't help admiring her courage as we both follow the cries to a deserted side road. In the middle of the road, three men have ganged up on a younger-looking man, tearing into him viciously, like feral animals, barking out obsceneties and threats.

I don't hesitate. I feel Rorschach pulsing underneath my skin, tugging me forward, leading me on. I feel Cadence at my side, sticking close. I look down at her; she is scared, horrified, but her face is set in that stubborn, determined expression. "Stay back," I snarl at her, pushing her away.

Stumbling backwards, she gapes at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What? No!" she protests. But I can't waste any time arguing.

The men stop when they see me. They sneer at me, and I can see their mouthes move but I don't concentrate on what they're saying. My body is pulsing with cold, calm assurance. I see what I must do, and it is clear. I fall on them, swooping down silently, slashing and arcing with my body through their midst until the only one standing is the bloody, trembling victim.

He watches me, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on me warily. I stand there for a moment and then growl, "Get yourself to a hospital."

He nods quickly, holding his arm, which is hanging uselessly at his side and must be broken. But as he's turning to limp away, Cadence hurries over. "Wait," she orders and looks down at the unconscious attackers. "Take pictures of them with your phone or something so you can identify them," she explains.

The young man's eyes narrow. "Oh, I can identify 'em without pictures," he mutters, glaring down at his attackers.

My vigilante instincts kick in. "You know them?" I demand.

"Oh, I know'm alright. We go back a long way," he replies darkly.

"Gangs?" I inquire.

He hesitates but then sighs. "Yeah..." he admits reluctantly.

Cadence looks at me, eyebrows furrowed in concern, and I blink at her, wondering what she's thinking. Then she turns back to the boy and murmurs, "Well, you don't want to be associated with them anymore I presume. So take pictures of them. So that when you go to the cops, they don't automatically assume you were part of a gang."

And suddenly I understand. Oh. Police brutality has been on the rise. She doesn't want this boy to be a possible victim twice in a row. Smart girl.

The boy seems to think so, too. He nods to her and takes pictures of his attackers with his phone. It is then that I notice the tattoo on his wrist. It is small, black, and delicate, and I almost can't tell what it is at first. And then, as I peer closer while trying to maintain inconspicuous about it, I realize that it's an inkblot, still red around the edges. New. _He is a truther, _I realize in shock.

_What do you see? _a voice whispers, just a breath, nearly inaudible. It twines through my mind like a memory and then disappears. Right after it, I hear another whisper, just as quiet but softer, gentler: _Two lovers kissing. _Blinking, I shake the shiver from my spine and try to ignore the strange whisperings. Probably just my imagination anyway.

The boy thanks me quietly, wiping the blood from his eyes and then cradling his broken arms while he walks away. Cadence stands next to me, watching him leave, her face distressed, torn. The boy is almost out of sight when she turns to me, eyes wide with anxiety. "Should we have helped him get to the hospital?" she asks.

"He could walk. He'll be fine," I assure her. She still looks uncertain. "Cadence. He'll be fine," I repeat, sighing. "We don't want to get involved right now. Not yet, at least. For as long as we can, we have to stay inconspicuous."

Cadence bites her lip but I know she knows I'm right. After a moment, she blinks at me as if realizing something. "You really are Rorschach," she breathes, sounding amazed and worried at the same time.

I roll my eyes. "You didn't believe me before?"

"No, that's not it, it's just...hard to take in," she explains.

I nod, feeling an unexpected softening at her disbelieving expression. As if she's lost in a terrifying new place. And I've known exactly how that feels. "Come," I murmur. "Let's go somewhere to talk."

I promised to tell her how and why I'm here. I suppose I must keep that promise.

That night I am out on patrol, but my mind is still on Cadence. She had taken in my story fairly well. Her shock had already worn off by then; explaining the reasons behind my miraculous existance just seemed to make things more real for her.

The only things I didn't tell her were the things about her. Partly because Manhattan just keeps sending cryptic little puzzles for me to solve; I don't want to tell her anything unless I know what I'm talking about. But mainly because I don't want to get her in as deep as I am. She shouldn't have to solve my problems for me and I don't want her to.

The moonlight shines down through the clouds as they part at the exact moment I step into the alley, illuminating the writing on the wall. My heart skips a beat in my chest. My jaw drops. "My God," I breathe.

"Wait! Where are we going?" Cadence pants, slowing to a halt.

"Just come on!" I insist impatiently, grabbing her wrist and dragging her the rest of the way. When we get to the alley, I point to the wall, looking at her meaningfully. I watch her face, smiling slightly as her eyes widen with shock and she lets out a little gasp.

"Oh my God!" she exclaims and turns to me, the smile growing wide and excited on her face.

On the wall, among spraypainted portraits of various inkblot patterns, are the words 'Join the Resistance Movement' with the same double 'R' symbol Cadence uses in her notes.

I nod, trying to hide my smile. But, in truth, I am as excited and hopeful as she is, and my smile won't disappear. "I saw it last night on patrol. I was wishing I could've contacted you then," I admit.

"Wow, that is awesome," she breathes, shaking her head in amazement. We both fall silent, examining the artwork on the wall, and it's only then that I realize I'm still holding onto her wrist. She seems to realize this at the same time and we both glance at each other, blinking in surprise, before she snatches her hand away. She gives me a small, embarrassed smile and I look away, but not before seeing her face grow a bright, rose red. Well, at least she has the decency to be embarrassed.

I am just about to drown in the despair that the awkward silence burning between us will last forever when Cadence speaks up. "Walter?" Her voice is quiet, tentative, and I am automatically suspicious.

"What?"

"I have a question...a, um, _favor _I wanted to ask of you."

"Alright..."

And then, once more, she surprises me.

"Teach me to fight."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alrighty, hope you liked the chapter. Please review!


	13. Thirteen

13. Aggressive

It is dark where I am, and though it's not cold the blowing wind raises the hair on my arms. In the blanket of night I walk, in barefeet and ragged cloth tied around my body that flaps like wings in the night breeze.

I come to the edge of the rooftop, fifty-six stories from the ground, and look out at the cityscape. Up above, the moonless sky burns with the fire of millions of stars.

Suddenly, he is next to me, holding a large, gilt-framed mirror in front of me that is about my height. Looking into it, I see me...but she isn't me. She's just my reflection. Not me. She is not even close. Her terrified expression fills me with contempt that twists like disgust in my stomach. I clench my fists and turn away.

He whispers, "What do you see?"

I ignore his question and start to walk away. "I wait for the one who stands still," I reply sharply, quietly.

"You can't wait for someone who doesn't move," he replies. I don't turn around.

"Rylie?"

I will find the one who stands still.

"Rylie!"

With a gasp, I sit up quickly in bed to see my mom leaning into my room. Her expression is angry and urgent. "Come _on, _Rylie. You have five minutes! We're gonna be late!" she exclaims.

"Okay, okay!" I mutter groggily, rolling clumsily out of bed with my legs still tangled in sheets and my head still tangled in sleep. Disoriented, I stumble to my closet and grab the first thing my hand touches. It's only when I am pulling on my clothes that I remember, and the sleep rushes swiftly from my mind as my heart flutters excitedly in my chest. Today is the first day that Walter promised to start teaching me how to fight.

I smile, remembering his reluctance. Or maybe that's understating things. He was actually pretty pissed initially that I had asked him. But I had been able to convince him eventually, and he had agreed to meet me at the abandoned warehouse downtown to start training. I've been playing with the idea of skipping the last three classes of the day, leaving at lunch and heading for the warehouse. But I don't particularly feel like getting in trouble today. Hmm...so that's a maybe.

I am buzzed the entire first half of the day, edgy and nervous and excited all at the same time. Of course Eddie notices right off the bat. We're in third period, the class right before lunch, when he leans over and whispers, "Okay, what the hell is with you, Rylie? Are you on crack?"

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head and hiss back, "I'm seeing a friend today."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "What, that ginger guy you have a crush on?"

I glare at him. "I do _not_ have a crush on him, Edward, and if you say that one more time I will happily stab you with a spoon," I mutter, giving him a fiendishly sweet smile.

He returns it. "Tell me, babydoll, where you gonna get a spoon?"

"Oh, just shut up!"

"Miss Howard? Mr. Hollis? Care to add anything to this discussion?" The class snickers as Eddie and I look up at Mr. McDonald, who is leering at us, waiting for an answer. God, I hate him.

"Yeah, actually, could you tell me where you got that toupee? My grandfather's looking to get one, too," Eddie replies, looking oh so calm and nonchalant about mouthing off our teacher. I gape at him and he winks back at me with a grin.

"Mr. Hollis, would you care to see the principal?" Mr. McDonald says in a low, dangerous voice. His flustered face is painted a bright red, and I have to keep from laughing at the job well done my friend has just performed.

"Eh, not really, you know, I'm a busy man. I have to schedule these things in, you know?"

"No, I do not know, and I'm sorry about your _schedule, _but I'm sure the principal would just love to fit you into his," McDonald replies and motions to the door.

Eddie turns to me, smiling, and tickles my chin. I twist away, still gaping at him. "See ya later, babydoll," he murmurs and strolls casually out of the room, whistling, his hands in his pockets and a grin plastered on his face.

In fourth period, I am deliberating again about whether or not I should skip the rest of school. My answer comes with a loud ring in the middle of class. Literally. My phone, which I have forgotten to turn off, rings, just one short bell tone, which I quickly cover up with a fake coughing fit. No one seems to notice thankfully and I reach into my backpack, scowling irritably, to see just who would text me in the middle of class.

I should've known it would be Eddie. _Hey, grrl. Seriously, why are you so hyped up? I crave sustainance, woman!_

Smiling, I type a quick reply. _My friend is gonna teach me something._

_Ooh, sounds kinky. Y'know, _I _could teach you that ;)_

_Oh, shut up, you pig. That's not what I meant. He's gonna teach me self-defense._

There is a long pause in between these next two texts, and I begin to grow concerned without really knowing why. When I finally receive Eddie's reply, my heart stutters with alarm.

_Self-defense as in fighting? Babydoll, who did you say this guy was again?_

I hesitate. Eddie's really smart, so smart he has to go out of his way to fail his classes. _Could he have guessed who Walter really is? _I wonder, beginning to panic. _No, _I try to reassure myself. _No, he can't have guessed so soon._

_His name is Walter. And yes, he's going to teach me fighting moves. _

Another long pause. And then... _Okay, I'm gonna text Emmi and tell her to cover for you. You get out of here so you can meet your friend. But I need to know all of what happens and who this guy really is after you're done. Deal?_

I blink, shaking my head. He knows me so well. _Yeah, okay, deal, _I type back reluctantly. Hopefully by the time I see him again I can come up with a lie for who Walter's supposed to be.

_~r.~_

"Hello? Walter?" I call tentatively as I step into the dusty warehouse.

"Cadence." I jump and whip around to see Walter stepping out of the shadows. He dips his head to me. "You're early."

"Yeah, I skipped again," I reply lamely.

"Well, I can see that."

I grimace and roll my eyes. "C'mon, let's get started," I mutter.

He shrugs. "Okay," he says and then, taking his hands out of his pockets, he squares his shoulders and faces me. "Attack me."

I blink, taken off guard. "What?"

Walter gazes at me steadily. "Attack me," he repeats.

I wait for him to elaborate but when he doesn't I shrug. "O-kay," I reply hesitantly and, after a few heartbeats, I just decide to dive right into it and see how I do. I circle him a few times, coming closer with each step, until I'm close enough to rush him. He stands there, waiting, until the last second, when he reaches out and grabs my arms tightly in his hands. He flits past me and tosses me past him to the floor in one swift, fluid movement.

I hit the floor with a hard thud which sends a sharp, jarring pain up my wrists as I try to catch myself. Dust billows up in thick clouds and I stifle a sneeze as I stand up painfully, brushing the dust from my clothes. He is standing a few feet away from me, his eyes glowing with an eager, dangerous fire. "That was a stupid move," he snaps disgustedly. "Did you think I wouldn't be expecting something so obvious?"

I gape at him. "You told me to attack you!" I protest angrily.

"Is that how you would attack an enemy if your life was really at stake?" he challenges.

"I don't know! I've never fought anyone before!"

"God help you if you ever have to," Walter mutters.

"Are you gonna stand there talking all day or are you gonna teach me how to fight?" I demand; fury boils underneath the surface but I am able to control it.

"Hurm." Walter nods. "As you wish. Now. Attack me," he orders and then his lips curl in a tiny sneer, his blue eyes glinting with challenge. "And this time, try something I _don't _expect."

Narrowing my eyes in determination, I take up his challenge. We circle each other again, and when I attack this time I have formed somewhat of a plan. I dart toward him, aiming toward the left. Then at the last second, I feint away and dart to the right, lashing out with my fist as I pass.

But Walter of course is ready. He lifts his arm and slams my arm away with barely a flick of his. Then, as he flings my arm away he lets his arm move with mine, gripping my wrist with his hand until he is able to twist my arm behind my back, slamming my back up against his chest. I struggle to get free, but he moves my arm at an awkward angle and I can't help letting out a short cry of pain. With a snort of disgust he lets go, pushing me away so that I stumble and fall to my knees.

Wincing in pain, I look up at him, panting. He glares down at me. "You weren't quick enough, and your eyes betrayed which way you were going next," he growls and then narrows his eyes. "Get up!" he barks loudly, making me jump.

Quickly, I force myself to my feet and face him again. Concentrating, I lock gazes with him; he stares back unblinkingly. Then, like the first time, I rush him, except this time I keep my gaze locked on his until the very last moment. Using all of my strength, I cannon into him, wrapping my arms tightly around him and shoving all of my body weight into his midsection, like when I trained with Eddie for football.

Except he doesn't move. Not even an inch. Oh, yes. Embarrassing.

I push against him, trying to get him to budge. After a few moments of this he sighs in disgust and pushes me back; I try to catch my balance as I tumble backwards but I lose my balance and fall right on my ass.

I stare up at him with what must be a pretty funny, surprised expression, my mouth gaping. He shakes his head and raises an eyebrow at me. "Really?" he murmurs and then rolls his eyes. "Are you even trying, Cadence?"

My skin burns hot with embarrassment and rage. Furiously I push myself to my feet, feeling the blood pound fiercely in my veins, and stand to face him yet again. He watches me and hisses, "Now attack me, Cadence, like your life depends on it!"

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than I have rushed forward, letting the heat drive my body while keeping my head calm, cool, and concentrated. I feint to the right and then to the left, keeping my eyes locked on his; he reaches out for me and I slam my arm into his, slapping it away. Then with my other hand I lash out at him; he catches my wrist and starts to twist it behind my back again.

_No! _my panic-filled mind shouts. Desperately, I twist my arm in the other direction and tug, managing to wriggle loose; I stumble forward and it only takes that one moment of clumsiness for him to wrap his arms around me and tackle me, sending us both to the floor. He crouches on top of me, his knees pressed sharply into my back, his hands clamped tightly around my wrists.

"That was better," he pants, then leans down to breathe in my ear: "But you aren't strong enough, or fast enough. You need to hone your strength and speed before I can teach you any specific techniques." With that he lets go of my arms and rolls off of me, allowing me to stand.

I tremble as I stand; my body feels battered and hot, with sweat trickling down into my eyes and stinging them. He watches me silently for a moment and then flicks his wrist at me dismissively. "Rest for a moment. When you're ready we'll go for a run," he murmurs.

"A run?" I repeat dumbly, still trying to catch my breath as I sink back down to the floor, gratefully this time.

"Yes, a run. Didn't you hear what I just said? You need to build up strength and speed and endurance before anything else," he snaps impatiently.

I nod, ignoring his sharpness. Of course. That's what Eddie had told me when he'd begun to train me for football tryouts. After a few minutes, Walter speaks up. "Okay. Let's go," he murmurs, heading toward the door.

I nod again and try to get up, but my legs are still sore and wobbly and I fall back again with a soft "oof!" Blushing with embarrassment and irritation, I push myself to my feet again, this time successfully, all the while thinking, _Damn, I am out of shape!_

As soon as we step out into the sunlight, Walter takes off running. "Hey!" I protest, hurrying to catch up.

We run for what seems like forever. I stick close to Walter's side, hoping to show him that I can keep up no matter how fast or far he runs. But the difference between us is painfully obvious; I am huffing and puffing like I've just run a marathon, while Walter is steady and strong, breathing evenly and looking like he could run forever.

Finally, we stop on the bridge. Breathing heavily, we lean against the railing and look down at the rushing water below. Briefly I fantasize about jumping in and cooling off. After a long pause, Walter looks at me and raises an eyebrow, one side of his mouth rising slightly in a wry smirk. "You kept up well. I'm impressed," he murmurs.

I roll my eyes. "Oh, what a glowing commendation," I drawl sarcastically.

"Mm." He nods. "Don't let it go to your head," he warns. "You still have a very long way to go."

I grimace. "Thanks," I retort. "Now can we please go get something to eat? I'm starving!"

Walter snorts. "I suppose. But not Wendy's," he adds before I can even suggest it. "If you're going to commit to this training it will make things a whole lot easier if you stick to a healthy diet, too."

I throw him a flat black look. "You're just trying to kill me, aren't you?" His lips twitch but he doesn't smile, so I just roll my eyes and turn back the way we came. "C'mon, let's go get some _salads,_" I sneer, and together we head back to town.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please review :)


	14. Fourteen

NOTE: Thanks to my awesome readers and to my reviewers! I love to hear your feedback :)

14. You're Bad For My Blood Pressure

_**Rorschach**_

When Cadence had asked me to teach her how to fight, I was, at first, shocked, and then angry. My mind had spun with a thousand different reasons as to why I shouldn't teach her. _She's a girl, she's weak, she's too young, too innocent..._ I had curled my lip and asked her if she was stupid. She hadn't liked that much and we'd argued for a long time.

But then I had started to think... What if I'm _supposed _to teach her to fight? What if she'll need to know in the future? Those doubts were what had eventually lead me to agree to her request. Yesterday I had begun to teach her, and though I admit she has potential, she is a long way from defending herself properly.

Today I wait for her outside of the school so we can run to the warehouse. But when she walks out she has someone with her, someone I've seen with her before. They are arguing; Cadence has on that same stubborn expression that she uses with me and I have to smile just a little.

When she glances in my direction, she sees me almost immediately and breaks off from whatever she was saying; the boy follows her gaze and narrows his eyes when he sees me. I glare back at him challengingly from instinct; I see the hostility in his eyes and if he wants a problem with he'll have it.

Cadence says something to the boy and marches over to me. "Hey!" the boy yells and rusn after her.

"Come on, Walter, let's go," Cadence mutters, walking right past me.

"Rylie!" the boy snaps, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back.

I feel a surge of anger immediately in response and I step toward him threateningly. "Let her go," I growl in a low, dangerous rumble.

The boy glares at me defiantly. "_I _would never hurt her," he retorts.

I burn with rage at the implication in his words but I keep my voice cool and quiet. "You're hurting her now. Let her go," I repeat firmly.

"What are you, a _hero?" _he sneers and then stops, his eyes widening in shock, as if he's just realized something. After a moment, he lifts his gaze to meet mine and hisses, "_You." _

Cadence pulls her arm from the boy's grip and touches my arm to steer me away. I pull away but she doesn't seem to notice as she glares at me and mutters, "Come on, let's go."

Without a backward glance, I say, "We're running our route from yesterday first."

"Fine," she replies shortly and takes off running before I have a chance to say anything else.

"Hurm," I growl and follow. During our run, Cadence goes out of her way to stay a few steps ahead of me, and though I could easily overtake her, I oblige her. I'ts clear she's mad and I figure she just needs a chance to cool off.

When we finally stop outside of the warehouse, she leans against the wall to catch her breath. I pace slowly back and forth in front of her and finally decide to break the tense silence. "I've come up with some exercises to build up your strength and endurance," I tell her briskly.

"Mm."

"We'll keep them up for a while and then make them harder so you don't plateau."

"Mm."

I stop and glare at her, fed up. "Okay, what are you mad at?" I demand impatiently.

Cadence lifts her head and glares at me, her blue eyes flashing. "You," she snaps.

I blink, surprised. "Me? Why me?"

She growls and rolls her eyes in disgust, as if I should already know. "You almost got into a fight with Eddie!" she exclaims, glowering accusingly, as if the whole confrontation had been _my _fault.

Anger and indignation fill me like fire. "I was trying to protect you," I growl, leaning aggressively toward.

She leans toward me, too, until we are inches apart, and replies, "Well, you don't have to protect me from him."

We stand there for a few seconds, the tension crackling like lightning, until I decide I've had enough. "We should go in and get to work," I mutter through clenched teeth.

"Fine. Lead the way," Cadence replies insolently. As I lead her into the warehouse, I promise I'll go harder on her than I originally I had planned.

_**Eddie**_

I walk home in a daze, completely oblivious to everything around me. My head is spinning, the cogs churning. Did Rylie really befriend _Rorschach?_

I

_No, it's not possible, _part of me thinks. But something in my gut supports the other theory. That Walter is Rorschach. I mean, didn't Dad even say that Rorschach was a ginger with blue eyes? And Walter is short, short like Rorschach, and stocky, compact, muscular...Strong. I narrow my eyes and clench my fists, remembering the bruises.

Whoever the bastard is, he hurt her. My chest feels hot and tight, the blood pounding in my head. I have to find out more aobut Rorschach and more about this Walter guy. I have to stop Rylie from getting in any deeper into whatever it is she's getting into. I have to protect her.

_**Rylie**_

My whole body hurts. I'm beginning to wonder whether or not I should continue training with Walter. I have a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't going easy on me today because he was mad, and right now, that's the only reason I'm committed to staying. I can't let him know he's getting to me. Besides, it's just a matter of getting used to working out again.

Sitting down painfully on the side of my bed, I think longingly of the days when I had been a dancer. I had been in such good shape then. _I'll get there, _I tell myself and the thought exhausts me. _I just wish Walter was more like Eddie. _

Immediately, a pang travels through me, but nothing physical. Eddie had come up to me, after a day of in-school suspension for his outburst in class yesterday, and had immediately asked for details of my training session.

_"So. You have fun with your boyfriend yesterday?" he asks, raising an eyebrow suggestively at me._

_"Shut up," I mutter, shoving against his well-muscled arm. _

_"No, but seriously, Rylie. Why are you meeting this guy? I mean, he's older than you, ya know." He looks at me, and the worried look on his face irritates me._

_I glare at him. "Walter is only three years older than me, _first of all, _and if I wanted to date him I _would," _I growl forcefully. _

_"Technically that's still illegal," Eddie interjects quietly but I sweep over him._

_"But we're not dating and I don't like him and even if I _did _I would expect you to have the courtesy to keep your disapproval to yourself!" _

_Eddie glares at me and cuts me off before I can say anything else. "Okay, then why are you meeting him?" he challenges._

_"I told you before, he's teaching me to fight." Eddie looks unconvinced. "What, you don't believe me?" _

_Hearing the tone of my voice, he lifts his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay, I believe you. But why are you even learning how to fight? Why do you need to?" He pauses and then lowers his voice. "Is someone giving you trouble? Because if they are-" He breaks off suddenly and I blink at him in confusion. Following his gaze, I wince when I realize what he's seeing- the bruises running up and down my arms. And not just my arms but my knees, too. _

_"Rylie, what happened to you?" he breathes in shock. "Those bruises...And your hands!" He grabs my hands before I can snatch them away and gapes at the rawness of them; I wince, remembering the deadly force with which Walter had thrown me to the floor and the heat that had pulsed in my hands from the skid burns. I look up at Eddie; I have to swallow the apprehensive lump in my throat at the dangerous, burning fury in his eyes. "Did _he _do this to you?" he demands in a quiet voice. _

_Clenching my jaw, I yank my hands from his and march out the door, growling, "It's none of your business, Eddie." _

_But he catches up and keeps pace with me. "The hell it _isn't, _Rylie. If he is hurting you, you need to stay away from him," he replies. _

_It is at this point that I see Walter. He is standing on the sidewalk in front of the school, waiting for me, and though his expression isn't very friendly, I feel a wave of relief. Turning to Eddie, I say in a short, dismissive voice, "Look, I've gotta go." And I head over to Walter, hoping that things won't be quite so tense with him._

_Ha! Fat chance, _I think to myself, examining my bruises. My heart is still aching, feeling bruised itself; I wonder if I should call Eddie. In the end I don't, and at night I drift into a dreamless, uneasy sleep.

_**Eddie**_

The next day, I have a plan. I've come to realize that, even if I asked Dad for details, he would never admit that his best friend was abusive. He'd told me stories of his violence, but he would always end up backing his friend by coming up with an excuse for his viciousness.

So I must find out if Walter is Rorschach by myself. And I know just how to do that, but I'll need to give Rylie some time. Though I hate letting her sink in any deeper with Walter, she needs a chance to cool down after our spat. Time is all I need.

_**Rylie**_

Walter continues to train me each day for the next two weeks. The second week is spring break, so each day I come into town with my mom to meet with Walter. The first part of the day, the cooler part, is spent running. We run the entire perimeter of the city, from the river on the far east side to Clinton Lake on the far west side. I am exhausted and famished by the end of each run, but at the same time I can feel myself growing stronger. On Tuesday, Walter says he wishes that it was snowy so running would be harder. I fervently wish for the opposite.

At noon, we stop for lunch, then head back to the warehouse for my strength exercises. Walter has me do a steady, seemingly endless array of crunches, push-ups, wall-sits (UGH), chin-ups (or, rather, _attempts _at chin-ups), stair steps, and, at the end of these, suicides (which I blame myself for suggesting). Then, for cool-off, there is weight-lifting and stretching.

I can see myself growing slowly but steadily stronger. I think Walter can see it, too; he tells me that if I can do more than the allotted amount of crunches, push-ups, etc., I should. And each day I push myself to do more, feeling the strength grow in my muscles. I progress so much that, at the end of the training session on Thursday, Walter suggests we start something new.

"_Boxing?" _I repeat incredulously.

"Boxing is fighting," he reminds me calmly.

"Yeah..." I hedge uncomfortably. I'm not so sure I like the idea of fighting against Walter again so soon after the first attempt.

He rolls his eyes, apparently guessing my thoughts. "I'm not going to _spar _with you," he says. "I have to teach you the basics first." I'm still uncertain but I figure there's no arguing with him.

On Friday, we run through our routine as usual until two o' clock, when Walter stops me in the middle of my stretching and pulls me to my feet. "Since you aren't learning boxing to spar in a ring, we'll start with the absolute basics and then work on technique later," he says.

"Okay, but...if I'm not training to box professionally then what's the point?" I ask slowly.

"Boxing is a very physically trying art. It tests your endurance, your speed, your focus, your offensive and defensive skills... Everything you need to perfect to fight for real," he answers. "Now, it's important to remember when you're sparring to always stay quick, light on your feet, always ready to move and adapt. You must learn when to be defensive and when to be aggressive. And always protect your face," he tells me, circling me.

Then he stops and eyes me, and I never let my gaze stray from his. A second later, he lashes out at my face; instinctively, I raise my arm to protect myself. He smiles slightly at me over our arms, still pressed aggressively together, and then shoves so forcefully with his arm that I fall, and my back slams painfully against the wall behind me.

Crouching, winded, on the floor, I gape up at him. "You said we weren't gonna spar!" I protest.

Walter shakes his head. "That wasn't sparring," he replies, grabs my arm, and yanks me to my feet. "_That _was just me making sure you were paying attention."

He starts me off practicing as though we have the right equipment even though we don't. He holds up his hands, palms up, and has me punch them for a certain amount of time. At first he just stands in one spot. But then, after several rounds of this, he begins to move and I'm forced to move with him. He quickens the pace until we are dancing around each other in a tight circle, with him lashing out occasionally and forcing me to fall back on the defensive.

Finally he calls a stop to the practice and we both relax, breathing hard. We pace slowly for a few moments to bring down our heart rates and it's then that I see the snow.

"Oh, wow, Walter. Look," I breathe, pointing. He comes up and stands next to me, and we both stare out the window at the thickly falling snow. "Looks like you got your snow," I murmur.

"Hurm," he rumbles in response and then looks at me. "Will you meet me tomorrow?" he asks in a quiet voice.

I blink at him, feeling a warm shiver at the sound of his calm, almost gentle voice. "I-I mean, I'll try. But it's the weekend so my mom might not want to bring me in," I reply.

Walter looks down at his feet and then shrugs. "So just stay here," he says.

I stare at him, taken off guard. _"Here?" _I squeak. "At the warehouse?"

Walter's head whips up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "No, not _here!" _he snaps impatiently. "You have friends, haven't you? Why would you stay here?"

I shake my head and look away, feeling embarrassed; there is a strange little lump in my throat that I just can't swallow. "I don't know," I reply quietly. "I have to go now." I turn to head outside.

"Wait! Are you going to be here tomorrow?" Walter calls after me. I can tell by his voice that he's still disgruntled.

Avoiding his gaze, I open the door, mutter a quick "maybe", and step out into the snow, hoping the cold breeze will cool off my still-burning skin.

_**Jon**_

They have found each other.

They have met many times.

And today, they started dancing.

It was sloppy and awkward.

It was interrupted by his inhibitions.

It was prevented by her uncertainty.

But today was just a taste.

I see them now, dancing, in perfect sync with each other.

I see the world around them in flames.

Such beauty. Such beauty in such destruction.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Man, I have been getting these chapters out fast! (Or at least it seems fast to me) Usually I try not to but I've been on such a roll lately... From here on out, things are gonna start snowballing. Events are gonna slowly start to add up and connections are going to be made. Not immediately mind you! But soon, I promise :) Review please!


	15. Fifteen

NOTE: Thank you all of you awesome readers/reviewers. You guys are the greatest! :)

15. Waiting For Our Dreams to Come True

_**Rylie**_

"Rylie."

I turn slowly at the sound of his voice. He has on this excited, friendly grin that automatically annoys me; how can he act like nothing happened?

"How's my favorite sweet pea?" he asks, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"Sour," I reply. I push him away, glaring at him.

His grin disappears into a soft, apologetic expression. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been such an ass," he murmurs.

"Yeah, you're right, you shouldn't have," I retort. But it's working already. His apology, his light, carefree tone, his sparkling brown eyes... So with a sigh, I sink into his arms, leaning my head on his chest and forgetting our fight. After a whole week of Walter, Eddie feels like coming home.

"So. Did you hang out with your Walter over spring break?" Eddie asks over lunch. He looks me over for a minute, one eyebrow raised specutively. "You don't look like you have any new bruises," he observes.

"I don't," I reply, though in truth it feels like I do. I had gone over that Saturday and we had run our route in the snow. By the end of it, my legs had been burning not just from cold but from exertion. Never again do I want to run in snow. Walter's trained me hard; my _muscles _feel like bruises. "But I did see him over spring break," I continue.

Eddie nods; his expression is casual. "Oh, yeah? How is he?" he asks, examining the food on his fork.

"Um. Good," I reply, confused.

"Good, good. You guys hanging out anytime soon?"

"Yes..."

"When?"

"Today..."

"Can I come with you?"

It takes me a moment to register what he's asking. "You...want to hang out...with Walter and me?" I stammer. Eddie nods, grinning at me. "Why?"

Eddie shrugs. "Cuz we don't hang out often enough," he says and then sighs. "And, look, I know I was a real dick to him earlier and I want to apologize, start over fresh... You know- _not _be a dick," he explains.

I blink and then shrug. "Well, okay, but lately we've been training whenever we're together," I warn him.

"That's fine. Used to play football, remember?" Eddie replies, unconcerned.

I nod, but in my mind I don't want Eddie to see our training sessions; I feel some sort of protectiveness over Walter considering it. "Well, maybe we could distribute some of our notes today. We haven't done that in a while," I add guiltily. Walter and I are supposed to be challenging the government, not working out.

"Okay. Sounds good," Eddie agrees, an excited gleam in his eyes.

After school, Eddie and I walk outside and the first thing I see is Walter, like my eyes are drawn to him. I wince; he doesn't look pleased to see Eddie. Glancing at Eddie, I feel a wave of relief at his composure; his expression is calm, unconcerned, as if he can't see the anger on Walter's face.

When we reach him, I hold up my hands in a gesture of peace. "Walter, you know Eddie," I begin nervously.

"I know who he is. What is he doing here?" Walter interrupts, his lip curling just slightly over his teeth.

Before I can explain, Eddie steps forward; frantically, I try to position myself between them while going over my training in my mind in case I have to break them up. But Eddie shakes his head at me and turns back to Walter. "I've come, first of all, to apologize for my very rude behavior the week before last. I wasn't thinking clearly at the time; you see, I tend to be a bit protective of this one," Eddie explains, resting his hand in mine and smiling at me. "But," he says, turning back to Walter. "It was no excuse and I apologize."

I blink, completely amazed at Eddie's restraint; I've never heard him sound so formal. He extends his hand and looks at Walter expectantly. I look at him, too, biting my lip expectantly, hoping against hope that Walter won't choose to be an asshole.

After an eternity of tense silence, Walter slowly dips his head and shakes Eddie's hand. "Apology accepted," he replies.

I let out a huge gust of air and realize only then that I've been holding my breath. They both look at me, amused, but only Eddie laughs; Walter's mouth twitches and that's the only giveaway.

"So, is it alright if I come with you guys today?" Eddie inquires, glancing at Walter.

Walter opens his mouth to protest but I interrupt before he can speak. "I said he could come and help us spread notes," I confess quietly.

Walter glares at me, irritated but not angry. "You need to keep up your training," he growls.

"It's one day," I insist. Walter sighs, rolling his eyes, but nods to Eddie. I smile and we all start walking.

Walter falls back to join me and mutters, "You'll be doing twice your regular after-school routine so I suggest you meet me during lunch tomorrow."

Jeesh, what a hardass.

_**Rorschach**_

We walk to Dunkin Donuts and stay there for a while to write out some notes. Though Eddie has apologized, I can tell he still doesn't really like me; even so, I can't help liking him. I don't particularly trust him but he's funny, and I've never seen Cadence like this before- so open, so...happy. It strikes me that, up until now, I've never seen her laugh like this, uninhibited, unconcerned...

I feel a sudden, sharp pang in my stomach and turn away, try to refocus on the notes I'm writing. After a few more minutes of this, Cadence, still laughing, nudges my arm to get my attention.

"We should probably get going if we want to distribute all of them," she tells me; the smile is still on her lips, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

I look away quickly and mutter, "Fine," burning with unexplainable resentment.

The resentment, however, slowly cools as I begin to notice something. The more time I spend with Eddie, the more achingly familiar he becomes. There is just something about his brown eyes, that tugs and pulls at my brain, almost reaching the memory but not quite. I try to figure out who he reminds me of but I just can't reach it, and so, frustrated, I give up. Maybe it'll come to me later.

_**Eddie**_

I'm almost positive who Walter really is but I need Rylie to say it herself, and I need to talk to her in person. I still don't trust him, but, hanging out with him, I've done some revisions to my plan.

So that night, I sneak out of my house and start the long walk out to Rylie's house. On the way there, I try to figure out what I'm going to say, but in the end I just resign myself to letting the chips fall where they may.

When I finally get there, it's midnight. Rylie's two dogs greet me as I climb over the fence, whining and wagging their tails frantically. "Shh, boys," I urge them, patting them both on the head as I head over to the tree that grows close to Rylie's window. As quietly as I can, I grab the lowest branch and hoist myself up, then climb the rest of the way till I can lean against the windowsill.

"Rylie," I hiss and then wait. Nothing. "_Rylie!" _I hiss again, louder this time. Still nothing. After a few more tries, I growl under my breath and feel around the windowsill to see if I can open the window myself; Rylie usually leaves it open so it doesn't get stuffy in her room, even in winter. "Crazy," I mutter right as my fingers slip into a small opening; as quietly as I can, I lift up the pane and crawl inside.

Of course, I'm not counting on tripping over her shoes and ramming my knee into the side of her bed.

"Aw, _shit!" _I cry out in pain, hopping on my one good leg while holding my wounded one.

In the next second, something slams into me and I am on the ground, dazed. Knees press into my chest while hands clamp over my arms and press them into the floor. "Who are you?" Rylie hisses.

"Rylie, Rylie, it's me! Eddie!" I exclaim, shocked.

"Eddie?" Rylie repeats, sounding just as shocked as I am. She rolls off of me and lets me up; I lay there for a moment to catch my breath. "What are you _doing _here?" she demands, turning on her bedside lamp.

"Um. Robbing you?" I reply meekly, smiling sheepishly up at her.

"Ugh!" she growls loudly, throwing her hands up in the air. "You come sneaking in through my window, scaring me half to death, and then treat it like it's a joke?"

"Hey, I didn't exactly have a pleasant experience either," I retort, pushing myself to my feet. "Where the hell did you learn to throw guys down like that?" I demand, then stop, realizing that I already know the answer. "Walter," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't have had to put the throwdown on you if you'd just called," Rylie replies, but I can hear the smile in her voice.

I cock my head at her, giving her a mock dangerous look. "What's that you said?" I demand. She looks up at me slowly, trying not to smile.

"Nothing..."

"No, really, what did you say? I don't think I _heard _you," I growl playfully, wrapping my arms around her waist and tickling her. She lets out a little "eep!" noise as I fall back onto her bed, dragging her with me. "Do you surrender?" I prompt after a moment while she squirms against me.

"Yes, yes!"

I let her go and she relaxes into my arms to catch her breath. I shake my head in mock disappointment. "All of that training with Walter, and you give in just like that. I'm disappointed," I tease.

She punches me in the arm. "I'm ticklish, you asshole, it has nothing to do with my training," she retorts but she can't help smiling at me. Then she raises an eyebrow and I know what she's gonna ask before she asks it. "So. What _are _you doing here? And don't say you're robbing me because you're rich and you can just buy whatever you want."

I take a deep breath, focus on the words before I say them. "Well... Okay, here's the thing... The week before- you know, when Walter and I argued-"

"Huh! 'Argued'!" she scoffs.

I glare at her. "Hey, it didn't get physical, alright?"

"Ooh, that's what she said!"

"Are you gonna let me talk?"

"Sorry."

"_Anyway... _When we argued, I kinda thought of something. Remember when I asked him if he was a hero?" I remind her slowly, watching her expression.

She frowns. "Yes..." she answers reluctantly.

"Well, it occured to me that..._Walter..._is kind of like...Rorschach." Rylie just stares at me. "Well, okay, not _kind of. _He _absolutely _is like Rorschach," I rephrase.

"No, he's not," Rylie growls quickly, interrupting me. Her eyebrows are furrowed defensively, her eyes flashing with protectiveness. I feel a sharp stab of jealousy but I ignore it.

"Yes, Rylie, he is. He's short and muscular, he's got red hair-"

"Wait. How did you know he has red hair?"

"Rylie, I've seen him-"

"No, not Walter! Rorschach!" she interrupts impatiently.

"Cuz, my dad told me, and-" I stop and stare at her. "How did _you _know he has red hair? My dad never told you."

Rylie flushes and tries to hide her screw up by glaring at me. "I-I found out on the internet," she blusters.

"Oh, come off it, Rylie! You and I both know you can't find anything on Rorschach on the internet! The government hid his files. Now quit lying to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Rylie," I interrupt quickly, in a low, gentle voice, cupping her face in my hands. She stares at me and I can see that she's scared, not of me but of revealing Walter's secret. Another jab, right in the heart. I laugh once, a hard, frustrated chuckle. "You are so stubborn," I tell her, pressing my forehead to hers.

"Learned it from you," she replies quietly.

"Ha! Yeah, right, you're older than me. _You're _the influence," I retort, smiling at her. She doesn't smile back and I sigh. "C'mon, Rylie. You know you can trust me. Partners, remember?" I prompt with a grin.

Her expression softens. "Partners," she agrees after a moment.

"So? Am I right?"

She sighs, closing her eyes. She is silent for a long time but I don't break it. Finally she nods. "Yes," she answers quietly. "You're right." I feel a surge of triumph; I kind of want to jump up and down and shout "I knew it!" at the top of my lungs but I restrain myself. After a moment, she looks up at me challengingly. "What? No more questions? You done with your interrogation?"

"No," I reply and then quickly backtrack at the look on her face. "I mean, I'm not gonna interrogate you, I just...I had an idea."

She gives me an impatient look. "Well? What's this idea?"

"Well...Rorschach-"

"Walter," she interrupts.

I blink at her. "What?"

"Walter. His name is Walter," she says firmly.

"Whatever. _Walter _is teaching you to fight, right?" She nods, puzzled, and I continue. "And he knows about the government and all their evil garbage, right? And he's helping to fight against them?"

"Yes, Eddie, thanks for telling me what I already know," Rylie answers sarcastically.

"Well, why let all of that fighting skill go to waste?" I look at her excitedly and I can tell she doesn't understand what I'm saying.

"But...I'm not. I'm learning to fight so that if something happens...like, you know, martial law or something...I can handle it," she explains.

I shake my head. "No, no, no, Rylie. I mean, that's a good idea, but while you're waiting for such a thing to happen, why not _use _your skills? I mean, what did you and I dream of becoming when we were little?"

Rylie's eyes grow wide with shock. "V-vigilantes? Eddie, no. Are you completely insane?" she exclaims.

"Rylie, you're being trained by an actual vigilante! Why not even consider the possibility? I mean, seriously, are you gonna tell me that you didn't even think of it once?" I can't imagine my Rylie not even entertaining the thought of being a vigilante.

"Well...no. I honestly didn't," she answers, blinking, as though surprised at herself.

"Then consider it now! Come on, Rylie! This a chance for us to really do some good," I insist. "Honestly, why shouldn't we become vigilantes?"

"_We?" _Rylie repeats.

I blink at her. "Well...yeah. I'm not just gonna let you run off with this guy and steal all the glory. This is my dream, too," I remind her.

"No, Eddie, it's too dangerous-"

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit, Rylie!" I exclaim. "I _know _it's dangerous. But you and I both know that if the government has their way, things will get dangerous _anyway. _Okay, you _know _I'm right. And don't deny that you haven't seen the increase in police brutality, too, cuz I _know _you have," I growl firmly.

Rylie is starting to look doubtful, biting her lip uncertainly, and I know that I'm getting somewhere. "I...I don't know..." she stammers.

"C'mon, Rylie. I know you want to do this. And I'm gonna be right there with you, okay? Partners, right?" I hold out my hand, smiling at her.

She stares back at me for a long time and then smiles slightly back at me. "Right," she murmurs and claps her hand into mine, gripping it tightly.

Suddenly, from outside of her door, we hear her mother's door creak open. The two of us exchange an "oh-shit" glance and then dive into action; Rylie twists around to turn off her lamp. My heart stutters in my chest as I burrow down beneath Rylie's covers, trying to make myself look like just an ordinary blanket lump. Rylie huddles down next to me and pretends to be asleep, yet her eyes are wide open and staring at me, glittering with fearful excitement.

When it becomes apparent that her mom isn't coming in here, I sit up and relax into a more comfortable position, grinning at Rylie. "Shee-it, that was close," I hiss. She giggles, nodding, and then we both smile at each other. I shake my head. "Man, can you believe it? Soon, we're gonna be vigilantes," I murmur. Rylie breaks into a huge, sunny grin and I nod at her. "Yeah, _you _are gonna be a vigilante!"

She blinks, mouth open in shock, and breathes, "I'm gonna be a vigilante!" I smile and laugh and then we fall into a quiet, easy discussion about our new role as superheroes.

_**Adrian**_

"...So if we keep the war centralized in the Middle East, we can raise the prices of gas to contribute to inflation," I finish explaining to Theo, a new recruit for our mission. He nods. He looks smart but dangerous. Someone to keep an eye on.

"Mr. Veidt." I turn to see Jennifer leaning in the doorway. "You have a message from Malcom."

I smile. "Thank you, Jennifer," I reply and then turn back to Theo. "I believe that's all we needed to discuss today. I expect you to contact me if there is any change in Egypt or Libya."

"Certainly, Mr. Veidt," Theo promises and follows me out into the main office.

After he leaves, I sit down at my desk and read through Malcom's message, and as I read, a smile grows on my face. He says that he has been able to convict an entire gang in Lawrence; this is good news. We'll need ghosts soon.

The thought of ghosts darkens my mood a little. After my last meeting with Janet, I had called her up later to demand she tell me what they are planning. She had told me they were anticipating dropping the dollar in about three or four years. Now they have been forced to drop it in less than two. When than happens, things will fall apart. We'll need all of the men we can get to control the situation.

My smile has disappeared. Things are going to get very bad very soon. Silently I get up from my desk and head back to my private office. "You're not going home tonight, Mr. Veidt?" Jennifer inquires behind me, sounding surprised.

"No. I must return to my work," I reply quietly.

"Well...alright. Would you like me to bring you some coffee?"

I nod. "Yes, thank you."

Sitting down at my desk, I reach for my bottle of pills. These are the closest ones to immortality I have managed to manufacture, but they do not prevent aging completely. They only slow it. Even so, I can't manage to shake the fierce addiction to them. I tell myself that I keep taking them because I need to know the long-term effects, but...I can't lie to myself. It worries me, but not as much as the idea that I won't be able to create pills that actually work.

Especially when we are so close to the edge of oblivion.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, so the truth comes out and Rylie and Eddie agreed to embark upon a very dangerous (and, let's face it, somewhat stupid) journey. I will (hopefully) be posting the next chapter tonight (question mark...), so please watch for it. And please review!

P.S. AND GO SEE INSIDIOUS! IT'S AWESOME, FREAKY, AND IT HAS DANIEL IN IT! :D


	16. Sixteen

NOTE: This chapter is a lot of dialogue. Please keep in mind that this is a preface to the action in the next chapter. AND this chapter requires the song "Sleepyhead" by Passion Pit. Okay. Please read on :)

16. I Reel You in With Mystique, And You Reel Me in With a Smirk

_**Rylie**_

"Rylie! C'mon, you're gonna be late!" my mom hollers into my room, waking me from my dreamless sleep.

"Okay," I mumble incoherently, blink open my eyes...and see Eddie staring back at me. Our eyes grow wide with alarm, our mouths popping open in shock, as we both suddenly remember talking last night till we fell asleep.

"Oh, shit!" Eddie hisses as we jump out of bed at the same time.

"Come _on, _Rylie, we have five minutes!" my mom hollers again.

"O_kay!" _I yell back and then nod to Eddie. "Throw me my jeans."

He nods back, opening my drawer and digging out my jeans. "Heads up," he calls to me, tossing them to me.

"Thanks," I murmur, slipping them on and nearly toppling over in the process. Eddie catches me as he passes by, heading over to the window. "Hey, hey, wait!" I hiss urgently. He turns, eyebrows raised. "You can't sneak out of there. My dad could come home any minute, remember?"

"Dammit, you're right," he growls and then looks frantically around my room, his eyes filled with panic. Then he turns to me with an apologetic expression and shrugs. "But I'm gonna have to take my chances," he says.

I gape at him. "Eddie, no! Do you have any idea what my dad will do to you if he sees you sneaking out of my room?" I hiss, taking a step toward him.

"I think I have a pretty good idea, yeah," he replies with a little smile. "But don't worry. I'm pretty good at blending into trees," he continues. "Especially after being with you."

I pause in my flurry of panic to give him a weird look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know...when guys hang out with beautiful girls, sometimes their branches get hard," Eddie explains, struggling to hide his smirk.

I gasp and hit him in the arm, all the while feeling a blush creep into my face. "Ugh, _God, _Eddie, that is _so _disgusting and I never want to hear you refer to what you just referred to like that ever again!" I complain and he laughs.

"Okay, okay!" he promises and rubs his arm. "Jeez, you hit hard."

"You're damn right!"

He laughs and starts to climb out, then stops and turns back to me, one part of him hanging out of my window. "See ya, Rylie," he says with a smile, grabs my face in his hands and kisses me on the forehead.

My breath catches in my throat. My heartbeat stops in my chest for a split second. A red hot blush colors my face and I stare at him in shock. He just smirks a little and disappears out my window.

As I pull on the rest of my clothes, I sink into this terrific, tingly feeling and pray my parents don't spot my Eddie.

_**Eddie**_

I sneak out quickly through Rylie's window, swinging agilely from branch to branch, achingly aware of the sunlight shining down on me like a giant spotlight.

Even so, my head is filled with Rylie; I'm so dizzy with her that I'm surprised I reach the ground without falling flat on my face. Once I'm safely on the ground, I creep quickly around to the back of her house where the shed is.

My heart beats fast in my chest, but I'm not thinking about getting caught; I'm remembering waking up next to Rylie, spending the night in her bed, kissing her forehead... My heart aches in my chest while I wish I could have this every morning.

Of course, after a moment of thought, I sigh and revise my wish, grabbing the handlebars of Rylie's mountain bike. _I want this every morning, just without all the sneaking around crap._

_**Rylie**_

Eddie gets to school during second hour, and immediately comes up to me and says, "Hey, can I borrow your bike?"

I look at him, confused. "Uh, yeah..."

He smiles and nods, taking his seat next to mine. "Good, cuz I already did."

"...What?"

_~r.~ _

"Okay, so, we'll meet you at your house tomorrow night?"

"Hopefully."

"_Hopefully? _I thought he was your pet."

"Shut up, you jerk. He is, very much, _nobody's pet."_

"Someone's getting defensive."

"Someone's getting annoying."

He holds up his hands. "Okay, okay. I know when I'm being dismissed. You just try your best to get him there, okay?"

I roll my eyes. "_Okay. _But no promises."

"Alright. You take a nap, okay, crankypants?" he replies, smirking and pointing at me.

"Don't tell me what to do!" I retort and head in the opposite direction to wait for Walter. I'm nervous to see him, but I try to ignore it so I won't be all jittery. He seems to know what I'm thinking before I tell him, so I have to focus even harder around him to hide my emotions.

People pass me as I stand on the sidewalk waiting for him. I grimace and look away from everyone, trying not to feel like they're staring at me for standing in one spot. _C'mon, Walter, where are you? You were here at lunch, _I think impatiently, inwardly wincing at the memory of our lunchtime workout. He had worked me twice as hard, never slowing or letting me rest until the very end. And he hadn't let me eat, either. Jerk.

Suddenly, someone touches my arm and I jump, whipping around. Walter's lips twitch when he sees my startled expression. "I'll have to remember to teach you to always be aware of your surroundings," he teases.

I glare back at him playfully. "Well, I'll have to teach you not to sneak up on me. One of these days I might just use some of those skills you taught me on _you," _I reply.

He snorts in disbelief. "Yeah, I don't think so. But it's, uhm, _amusing _that you think so," he says in a belittling tone as we start walking.

I raise my eyebrows challengingly. "Is that so?"

He nods. "You wouldn't dare."

"What makes you say that?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He turns to me, smiling just a little in a smug way. "You're scared of me," he answers matter-of-factly. My smartass response hesitates on my tongue and I blink at him, realizing that he's right. When I don't reply, Walter just chuckles and shakes his head.

It's only when we get to Wendy's that I realize we're not going about our usual routine. I turn to him, surprised. "Wait. Why are we here?" I ask.

He shrugs, trying to look casual. "I figured you might be hungry," he answers nonchalantly and then gives me a look that I can only describe as somewhat gentle, almost soft in his own way. "You're doing very well in your training, Cadence," he tells me quietly.

I feel a shiver of heat pass across my nerve endings, making me feel all weird and tingly. "Um. Thank you," I murmur, looking down so he won't see my embarrassed blush.

"You're welcome," he says, his quiet voice amused. "But don't get used to it," he continues in a sharper, more reprimanding voice. "I don't give out praise just to hear my own voice." I roll my eyes and we go up to order our food.

After a few minutes spent eating and writing out notes in silence, I force myself to summon up some courage and dive into the plan Eddie and I made. "So, Walter," I begin lightly, trying to keep my voice nonchalant.

Immediately Walter looks up, suspicion glinting in his eyes. _Jeez, how does he know me so well? Is he a frickin mind-reader? _I wonder silently. "Yes, Cadence?" he responds in a wary tone.

"Well, I was thinking...we don't really have equipment for our boxing routine, like gloves or a heavy bag or anything..."

"Don't need gloves."

"Well, yeah, okay, but you said yourself once that it's best to have your hands wrapped."

Walter narrows his eyes and nods slowly. "Yes..."

"Okay, well..._I _have a heavy-weight bag," I finish in a quiet voice, glancing up at him cautiously.

He gives me a scathing look. "But I assume you don't have it with you, am I correct?"

I grimace. "No," I retort. I don't like his tone. "It's at my house. But I was just thinking-"

"No."

I stare at Walter, gaping. "You're not even gonna consider it?"

"It's out of the question."

"What's out of the question about it, Walter?" I demand, exasperated. "I mean, c'mon, it's no big deal. It's not like we'd have a slumber party or anything. You'd just come over, we'd work out, and then you'd leave to go do whatever it is you gingers do," I insist.

"No, I-" He stops and looks at me. "Gingers?"

"Uh..."

Walter shakes his head. "Look, I can't come to your house," he says firmly.

I glare at him challengingly. "Why? Give me one good reason."

He hesitates. "I...I would feel like I'm intruding..."

"_Intruding?"_

"Yes, intruding," he snaps. "It would just be awkward..."

"Well, yeah, of course it would," I joke, but at the look on his face I backtrack quickly. "But...c'mon. We're partners, aren't we?" I ask tentatively, feeling my heartbeat quicken as my words remind me of Eddie. _Partners, remember?_

Walter draws back a little in his chair, looking startled. "Partners?" he repeats and then falls silent, looking puzzled and thoughtful. "Yes..." he finally says. "Suppose we are in a way..."

I nod, excitedly grasping at the opportunity. "So it shouldn't be a problem, you coming over, right? I mean, c'mon, I got to see _your _place. It's only fair that you see mine," I add, smiling at him.

He is quiet for a long time, looking uncertain. "Well...I suppose...as long as we train hard while we're there," he says sternly. "And as long as it's okay with your parents."

"Hmm..." I furrow my brows, confronted with a problem. Though my parents aren't very strict, they would be a little cautious knowing I'm hanging out with a guy who's twenty-one years old. Sure, I'm seventeen, but still... After a moment, an idea grows in my head and I feel stupid for not thinking of it before. I look at Walter hopefully. "Do you mind pretending to be a homeless dude?"

He gives me a look. "Technically, Cadence, I _am _a 'homeless dude'," he replies dryly.

"A homeless dude incapable of taking care of himself," I revise.

Walter makes a face and I can't help laughing. "Do I have to?" he asks, and I'm reminded of a five-year-old who doesn't want to go to bed.

"Yes, you have to," I reply, grinning.

"Why do I have to act like a 'homeless dude' anyway?" he mutters. I giggle and he glares at me. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, it's just funny to hear you say 'dude'. _Anyway, _you have to because my parents will be less likely to act all, you know, _parental _if they think you're just some helpless hobo." He still looks confused so I continue. "My mom takes in pitiful homeless cases," I explain. Walter raises an eyebrow and I flush hotly. "Er...uh, I didn't mean for it to sound that way-"

"I know, Cadence," he interrupts, rolling his eyes. "And fine. I'll come over to your house and give this new idea a try. But if it doesn't work out, we're going back to our old routine _without _any complaints or arguments," he says, glaring at me.

"No promises," I reply, flashing him a cheesy grin.

He just rolls his eyes and motions toward my tray. "Finish your food," he orders.

"Yes, _Mom." _

_~r.~_

"So, Mom..." I begin slowly.

"Yes?" She talks slowly like me, but her voice is open, and I give Walter a hopeful glance.

"I met this guy today and I was wondering if he could come over for dinner tonight," I continue.

"Oh, honey, I don't know. You know I don't like to be put on the spot," my mom replies; though we are talking on the phone, I can almost see her disapproving expression.

"I know, I know, but... This guy is homeless and hungry and I feel really bad for him," I explain, throwing Walter an apologetic glance. He just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his feet impatiently.

"Oh, is he alright?" my mom asks, her tone immediately switching from unhappy to anxious.

"Yeah, I think so. Just hungry," I respond.

"Okay, he can come over for dinner. I'll be leaving work in about fifteen minutes. Will you two be okay till then?"

I roll my eyes. "_Yes, _don't worry," I reply impatiently.

"'Kay. Bye, honey."

"Bye, Mom." I close my phone and mutter, "Freak."

Walter furrows his brows thoughtfully. "You don't like your mother?" he inquires curiously.

"No, that's not it. I love her, she just gets on my nerves, like, constantly," I explain.

"Hurm," he rumbles thoughtfully but doesn't say anything else about it. He raises an eyebrow. "So, what did she say?"

I grin at him. "You can come over. She said that she'll be getting off work in fifteen minutes."

He nods, looking a little disgruntled but having the courtesy not to speak his disappointment. "So, why does your mother have to know I'm a homeless man?"

"My mother likes to take care of pitiful things," I tease. Walter glares at me and punches me in the arm. I gasp, gaping at him. "_Ow!" _I exclaim indigantly, punching him back. A heartbeat later, I think, _Oh, shit. He's gonna kill me for that. _I flinch back from him, but he just stares at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Is _that_ how you think you're supposed to fight someone? Punch them and then curl up into a ball to let them seek their revenge?" he teases.

I grimace and look away, blushing. "Don't be a smartass," I mutter.

_"I'm _the smartass in the relationship?"

_"Yes, _you sarcastic son-of-"

"Don't say that word!"

"Okay, okay. Jeesh..." There is a brief pause, and since Walter has been in a surprisingly good mood lately I am desperate to avoid an awkward silence. "Well," I begin casually. "I think we'd probably have enough time to get to Hastings..." I narrow my eyes playfully. "...If we run." Walter's lips twitch, his eyes glinting as he takes up my challenge.

So we run. Walter beats me there, but I'm inches behind. People give us strange looks as we come crashing through the front door, sweaty and panting, with me trying to push Walter out of the way, laughing and insisting that I won.

Walter scoffs. "I was ahead of you the whole time," he says.

"That doesn't mean I didn't pull ahead of you at the end!" I retort.

"Huh! Cheek!" Walter growls, shoving me and nearly sending me into a book display.

I gape at him. "_Christ, _Walter!" I exclaim and try to shove him back. But he catches my wrists in his hands, glancing at me and then at the book table in front of him, his expression worried.

I blink, immediately alarmed at the change in him. "What is it?" I ask, peering past him.

"Here," he growls, letting go of my wrists and pushing me up to the table. I see what he's talking about immediately, and it scares me. Carved into the wooden tabletop are the words: "FUCK TRUTHERS". Then, beneath those words, is the little double 'R' symbol, circled and crossed out violently.

"Shit..." I breathe, and then throw Walter a quick, sheepish glance when he looks at me sharply with disapproval. "Sorry...uh..._shoot." _

Walter rolls his eyes and then turns back to the message on the table. "Well. Whoever it is, at least we know we're getting to them," he says with a heavy sigh.

I blink, drawing back slightly in surprise. "You know what? You're right," I realize and smile at him. After a moment, he smiles back. Just a little.

_~r.~_

I'm nervous on the way home and Walter can tell. My mom can't- I'm usually pretty good at hiding my emotions. But if my emotions are _caused _by him, it's hard, and if I try to _hide _my emotions from him, it's even harder. It's like he can see through me.

My mom talks Walter to death on the way there, and I try to throw him apologetic glances whenever I can. Surprisingly, though, he talks easily with her, never looking at me and answering her questions very politely. I narrow my eyes, feeling a sting of jealousy- he's never this polite with _me! _

When we pull into the driveway, my mom turns back to Walter for the thousandth time and says, "And once again, I apologize ahead of time for the mess. We weren't expecting company and _someone _hasn't been keeping up with her chores." She shoots me a stern glance as she says this and I roll my eyes.

"That's okay, Mrs. Howard. I understand," Walter replies, giving me an amused, devious glance which can only mean he's making fun of me.

I grimace and get out of the car, slamming the door loudly. "C'mon, Walter," I growl, glaring at him behind my mom's back. He twitches his lips to hide a smile and follows me inside.

_**Rorschach**_

Something is bothering Cadence. She's excited about something, something that is also worrying her. It also has something to do with me, which makes _me _worried. But whatever it is, she'll tell me when she's ready. Till then, I plan to observe everything I can about her life- her house, her parents, her surprising number of pets... I'm going to soak everything in.

"It'll be a few minutes until dinner's ready, but please help yourself to anything in the kitchen," her mother urges me as we step into the kitchen.

"Thank you, Mrs. Howard, but-"

"But I have a fridge up in my room, remember, Mom?" Cadence interrupts, glancing pointedly at me.

Her mom narrows her eyes curiously but doesn't argue. "Alright. Show him around the house while you're at it, Rylie, it's good manners," she says as I follow Cadence into the main hallway.

"I _know, _I don't need you to remind me of the frickin obvious," Cadence mutters, too quietly for her mother to hear. I raise an eyebrow at her as she turns a corner and heads upstairs. She blinks at me and narrows her eyes. "What?"

"Complain about a lot of things," I reply thoughtfully.

"Well, there's a lot to choose from," she mutters and then holds open a door for me. "This is my room," she says, motioning me inside. Instantly I draw back a little; this is her _room, _so personal, so..._Cadence. _Stepping into it will be like taking a step deeper into Cadence herself. "Well, go in, it's not gonna bite!" she exclaims impatiently, glaring at me in irritation.

I shake my head, realizing I'm being stupid, and step inside. What do I have to fear from a room? The first thing I notice is the paint. The ceiling and the walls are painted in a dark navy, and covered in little white dots to represent stars. I blink in surprise. "This is amazing," I murmur.

Cadence smiles. "Thanks," she replies. "Will you open the windows please? It's so nice out today," she continues, going over to a large stereo system and popping in a CD.

The tepid breeze from outside flutters playfully in through the screen, matching the bright, cheerful tone of the music Cadence is playing. I cock my head. "Who is this?" I inquire.

"Passion Pit. They are quite amazing _and _my second favorite band," she answers, sitting down on the side of her bed to take off her shoes.

I raise an eyebrow. "Who's your first favorite?"

Cadence grins. "Muse. And I saw both Muse and Passion Pit in concert last year with Eddie," she says.

I narrow my eyes. "You do _everything _with Eddie?" I mutter.

Cadence gives me a strange look. "What's with the attitude?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "Nothing, sorry," I mumble, annoyed with myself. I can't help asking myself the same question. Eddie's okay, good for Cadence it seems; why should I dislike him spending so much time with her?

It takes Cadence's mother more than a few minutes to cook dinner, so Cadence and I can listen to the entire Passion Pit CD. She lays on her bed and I sit on her floor, and we talk on and off while we listen to the songs (which I find I like quite a lot). Finally, Cadence's mother calls us down and so, with 'Sleepyhead' playing in my head, we have dinner together. Her father is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder where is but I don't ask. His absence does, however, fills me with a sense of emptinesss, and if I think real hard, it's as if I can almost remember something from my past, someone missing...

Impatiently, I shake the feeling from me and try to concentrate on what Cadence's mother is saying. I like her; she seems like a truly kind woman, caring and generous (maybe to a fault). I don't see why Cadence has to complain about her all the time. She's lucky to have such a good mother.

After dinner, I'm leaning against the wall, watching Cadence clear the table, when her cell phone rings. An excited gleam lights in her eyes as she answers. "Hello? Yes! Okay, we'll be there in a sec. 'Kay, bye." Then she turns to me, grinning in a way that instantly makes me suspicious. "Come with me. I have to feed the animals," she says. Then, before I can protest, she runs off, forcing me to follow.

She leads me into the utility room, where she stops short of opening the door to the garage. "Now, _please, _Walter. Have an open mind. Promise? Please, please, please, please, _please?" _

I glare at her. "I'm not promising anything. Now whatever it is you have to show me or tell me, get on with it," I snap.

Without another word, Cadence opens the door and steps into the garage. Suspiciously, I follow. Eddie is waiting there for us with two other boys, one skinny and one very muscular and tall. I narrow my eyes. "Who are they?" I ask, glaring at Cadence.

"These are my friends. You already know Eddie. But this is Damien," she replies, pointing to the brawny boy with the dirty blonde hair. "And this is Jimmy," she continues, indicating the skinny boy with bright, bleach-blonde hair. "And we have all gathered here for the same thing." She turns to me, biting her lower lip hesitantly.

"And what would that be?" I demand; I don't like beating around the bush and she knows it.

She lifts her head and meets my gaze steadily, as though suddenly deciding to evoke that pure confidence I've only seen a few times. And, like so many times before, she surprises me.

"We want to become vigilantes."

"..._What?"_

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay! Sorry to stop right in the middle of the chapter like that, but I will have the next chapter up in a jiffy (yes, I did just say jiffy. Isn't it such a fun word? :D ) Please review!


	17. Seventeen

NOTE: "The Kill" by 30 Seconds to Mars was the inspiration for part of this chapter. Awesome song. Sorry there's not as much action as originally had planned but please read on. :)

17. Agreements (And the Price We Pay For Them)

_**Rorschach**_

"You want to become a _vigilante?" _I demand, outraged.

Cadence stares back at me and nods, trying to look confident. "Yes, we do," she replies. I don't miss the "we" part of that sentence.

Fury and hurt pulses through me; how could she tell them about me? How could she betray me? I take a step forward, leaning down over her till she cowers beneath me. "You told them who I am?" I snarl.

"I-I didn't! They guessed and-"

"And what? You just _confirmed _their guess?" I sneer.

"Hey, what does it matter if we know? We're not gonna tell," Damien interrupts. I can tell by his voice that he's being honest, but that doesn't make me any less furious with Cadence.

"That doesn't mean she had the right to tell you," I growl, advancing on her; for every step I take toward her, she takes a step back.

"Hey. Take it easy, man," Eddie warns in a low voice, stepping between us. He fixes me with a firm, level glare and I return it.

"Guys. Don't," Cadence pleads, coming up to stand next to Eddie. Her eyes are filled with fear, but not for herself; she is afraid for _us. _I feel a quick, sweeping sense of guilt; I push it away a moment later, but this realization is the only thing that has me stepping away from them.

Hesitantly, Cadence takes a step toward me. "C'mon, Walter. Why not teach us? We could do a lot of good!" she insists hopefully.

"You're too young," I growl.

"I'll be eighteen next year," she replies, rolling her eyes.

"No, that's not what I meant," I disagree, shaking my head. "You don't know what it's like. _I _do. And it's dangerous, Cadence. It could kill you."

Cadence shakes her head impatiently. "I _know _that, Walter, I'm not _completely _stupid," she says. "But you have been training me since spring break! You've been teaching me how to fight!" she exclaims.

I draw back, feeling a cold wave of shock as I realize that I've been unconsciously building a vigilante. A moment later, I shake my head to clear it of this distracting thought and glare her. "No. It's not that you can't become _physically _strong enough. But you are not _mentally _strong enough! You haven't seen what I've seen, you don't know!" I snap.

Cadence glares at me, silent for a moment, her mouth open slightly in indignation. "Who's to say I'm not strong enough?" she demands quietly.

I narrow my eyes. "Me."

"Why?"

"Because you're not," I answer simply.

"_Oh, _yeah, that's a _great _reason!" Cadence drawls sarcastically.

"Trust me, Cadence. You're _not. Ready," _I tell her forcefully. "And I'm not teaching any of you. You'll throw your lives away for something this stupid," I mutter, turning to leave.

"Walter! Where are you going?" Cadence calls after me, sounding both angry and dismayed.

"I'm leaving. When you come to your senses you know where to find me," I mutter, pulling open the door that leads outside and stepping into the night.

_**Rylie**_

I watch helplessly as Walter stalks out of the garage, half hoping he'll come back, half wanting to run out after him, and knowing neither will happen. After a long moment, broken only by the sound of the rain that has started to fall outside, I feel someone lay a hand on my shoulder and I turn to see Eddie, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry, Rylie," he says quietly.

I sigh heavily, trying to keep the quiver from my voice. "Oh, it's okay. He's like that sometimes. I'll try and talk to him later when he's cooled off," I reply, though I'm not sure I will.

Eddie gives me a worried, doubtful look. "Don't push it, Rylie. No matter how much you think you can trust him, never forget he's dangerous," he warns me seriously.

"Oh, you think?" I respond sarcastically to cover the fact that I'm worrying about the same thing.

Eddie smiles tightly and then sighs. "And, look, don't worry about this. It doesn't matter. I mean, we can train without him! How hard could it be?" he suggests cheerfully.

I bite my lip, remembering my training sessions with Walter. _It could be _very _hard, _I want to say. But Eddie's expression is to hopeful, too optimistic, so I just nod in agreement. And, in truth, I can't help wondering if we _can _train ourselves...

"Is that guy always an asshole?" Jimmy asks in that "I'm-too-gay-for-my-shirt" voice he has, interrupting my thoughts.

"Hey! Be nice," I snap, glaring at him.

He gapes at me. "_Girrl, _you have the hots for him, don't you?" he crows, giving me an "ohmygod-scandal" look.

My mouth pops open in shock. "What is it with all of you? I do _not _have the hots for him, oh my God!" I exclaim.

"Oh, yeah, you totally do, you got that aloof, love-hate thing goin on. It's okay!" Jimmy adds quickly, seeing my expression. "I mean, personally I go for dirty blondes," he continues, giving Damien a flirtatious smile. Damien grins back at him and wraps his arm around his shoulder. "_But, _that man was _built. _Mm, mm, like a tiny, ginger tank. And he had that whole dangerous edge to him, which is _always _a turn-on. Ooh, girrl, you go for him, get some sugar, play with him a little bit, and then _I_ get to be the wedding planner. Oh, but you gotta do something about that personality of his cuz _damn! _It wasn't pretty enough to match that face of yours, that's for sure."

I blink, wide-eyed, trying to process all of Jimmy's excited babble. "Uh, Jimmy, I am _not _marrying him. But you can be my wedding planner when I _do _get married," I add, smiling at him.

He makes a face. "Aw, but you guys had great chemistry!" he protests. "Man, sparks were flyin all over the place, it was like the Fourth of July!"

"Okay! Enough from the fruit loop," I interrupt, covering Jimmy's mouth with my hand. He just laughs and holds up his palms in defeat, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "C'mon, you guys, let's head inside. I'll tell my mom you're all moving in," I mutter, leading my friends into the house and turning my back on Walter.

If he won't teach us, fine. I've made up my mind- we'll do it ourselves. And I'll prove to him that I _am _strong enough.

_**Rorschach**_

I wait for Cadence outside of the school the next day. I am burning with resentment but after long consideration I've resigned myself to staying with her, training her. We're in this together, no matter what.

Even if she betrays me.

Some part of me realizes that she would never intentionally betray me- it's just not like her. But that doesn't erase my anger, and the mistrust that has sprung up. From now on, I'll keep my secrets to myself unless they are absolutely necessary, and keep meeting Cadence because that's what we're supposed to do.

But when Cadence walks out of the school that day- flanked by Eddie, Damien, and Jimmy- she doesn't come to me. She glances in my direction, glares challengingly at me, and walks in the opposite direction.

I snort in exasperation. If she wants to be stubborn, that's her problem. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walk quietly away.

_**Rylie**_

I'm in my room getting ready for school but something is wrong. There is someone in here with me. Trying to comfort myself, I sing "Sleepyhead" under my breath.

But they step closer.

A shiver runs down my spine, that chill feeling you get when you know something isn't right. I sing the song louder, and they step even closer.

Whipping around, I scream out the lyrics. I can't see anyone but someone is there. And all of a sudden, this knee-buckling, heart-stopping fear cripples me, forcing me to tremble and nearly collapse. I have never felt this kind of fear before, this fear that speaks right to my heart, that cuts deep into my soul, where my instincts hide.

I call out desperately for someone, anyone to help me. But I can't see anyone in my mind's eye. I can't see my mother or father, or Eddie, or Emmi, or Jimmy, or Damien.

And then, like a sharp point of light in a horizon of darkness, I see him. The only one that I _can _see.

Walter.

I see him in my mind, pull strength from him, feel courage pulse through me to confront the fear. Fighting and tearing at the debilitating terror, I push and pull, struggling, fighting...

Gasping for breath, I sit up in bed, covered in sweat, my heart hammering in my chest, my mind spinning in confusion. "Walter," I croak, terrified. "Walter!" I whip my head from side to side, searching for him. It takes me a while to realize that it was only a nightmare, and Walter is not here. With this realization comes a wave of relief, followed quickly by a fierce disappointment.

Walter is not here. He wasn't here, and he wouldn't have been here. In the wake of my terrifying nightmare, I feel a sharp sorrow in my chest, a fierce craving for Walter that won't go away. He was the first person I sought waking up from my nightmare; he was the only one I could think of in it. I need him.

Letting out my breath in shock, I realize what this means. I have to go back to him and convince him to train me. Because whether me and the guys can train ourselves or not (which I'm sure we can), we need Walter. I can feel it deep in the marrow of my bones, in the pulsing of the blood in my veins. I can feel it deep in the center of my heart where my nightmares hide.

Laying back down in bed, I know I won't be able to sleep, so I quietly sing "Sleepyhead" to myself and wait for the dawn.

_~r.~_

"Walter?" I call, hesitantly stepping into the warehouse.

"What are you doing here?" comes his quiet reply. I turn to see him step into the light, his expression closed off and emotionless.

"I'm here to train," I reply. He narrows his eyes; I can tell he isn't buying it. I sigh and continue. "And to convince you that you should train me as a vigilante."

He groans, exasperated. "_No, _Cadence. You are _not ready," _he growls.

"But you could _get_ me ready!" I insist. "C'mon. Give me one good reason why I _shouldn't _become a vigilante."

"Don't want to have to pull your dead body out of a dumpster," he replies immediately in a no-nonsense voice.

I throw him a dry look. "Oh, you're so cheerful," I mutter. "But, _come on, _Walter! If _you _trained me, you wouldn't have to pull my body out of a dumpster cuz I'd be too badass and nobody could kill me!"

_"Antiquis temporibus, nata tibi in rupibus ventosissimus exponebantur ad necem," _he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

I blink at him, surprised. "You speak Latin?" I ask.

He looks up, seeming just as surprised as I am. "What?"

"You...you spoke Latin just now," I explain slowly. "You said 'In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags'," I continue and then grimace, scowling at him.

He doesn't seem to notice. "I...I didn't know I could speak Latin," he murmurs quietly, shocked, and then looks at me. "I didn't know you could speak Latin, either."

I shrug. "I've been taking it as a class for a while," I reply and then glare at him. "_Anyway, _since I _haven't _perished on a windswept crag, I'd like to get back to the matter at hand if you don't mind."

He shakes his head impatiently. "Cadence, we're not having this conversation. We started meeting originally to oppose the government. That's what we must do now," he growls firmly.

I keep my glare levelled on him for a long moment and then I sigh, realizing that he's right. "This isn't over," I mutter.

He rolls his eyes. "I know, Cadence," he replies. "I know."

_~r.~_

"My mom says she wants you over for dinner tonight."

Walter looks up at me, the pencil in his hand poised over the note he's writing. "What?"

I look back at him calmly. "She asked if I knew where to find you. I said yes. She said she wanted me to invite you over for dinner tonight," I explain.

He narrows his eyes. "Did she? Or are you lying?" he challenges quietly.

I shake my head; I won't let him provoke me. "I'm not lying," I say. "And _I'd _like you over for dinner, too."

He blinks at me, looking as though he doesn't know how to respond. "Well...I couldn't impose-"

"You wouldn't be imposing. We're _inviting _you, Walter," I interrupt, giving him a wry smile. "Besides, my mom was rather upset when you left so abruptly the other night. I think she was worried about you keeling over or something," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

Walter smirks. "Of course, _you _know better," he replies and then his expression softens. "Your mother is very kind, Cadence. And I suppose it would be rude to reject her invitation."

"Great," I say, beaming at him. Inwardly, my insides churn with a cold determination. He will not pass me off as weak after tonight. I'll make sure of that.

My mom dotes over Walter like she would any stray. She bombards him with even more questions on the ride home, and I turn up my ipod to drown her out. How Walter can be so patient with her is beyond me.

When we get home, my mom heads into the kitchen to fix dinner and Walter goes to follow her. "Wait, Walter," I call after him, and he turns, confused.

"What is it?" he asks, walking over to me.

I stand in front of him, my arms hanging at my sides, and I feel the new strength in them. I will be no match for him, but I'm not the weak girl I was before he started training me, either. I glare at him coolly, with the cold determination pulsing through my veins, making me calm. "You keep saying that I'm too weak to become a vigilante and, frankly, I'm tired of it," I tell him.

He narrows his eyes. "I should have known you would bring this up," he growls, rolling his eyes and turning away.

Fine. If he won't listen to me, then I'll get his attention. I'll _make _him listen. Summoning up all the strength in my body, I leap at him and send us both tumbling to the ground. He turns on me immediately and slams me into the ground, but I wrench his wrist off of my shoulder and wriggle away, jumping to my feet lightly like he taught me.

"You don't want to do this, Cadence," he warns me quietly, but the fight is in his eyes and in his stance. He will meet my challenge, I'm sure of it.

"Yes, I do," I reply and dart toward him again. I feint to the right and he meets me there; quickly, I twist to the left and throw a jab at him. He blocks and it lands on his shoulder- not where I wanted it, but there was enough force to leave a bruise. He grabs my arm and throws me down, so hard that I skid on the slippery grass. Pain pulses in my body, but I'm not giving up.

"Cadence," he growls and I look up. He's coming toward me, his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't want to hurt you."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Then how come you always do?" I spit back at him. Before he can reply, I'm on my feet and ramming into him. I'm able to push him back a little this time, a feat I'm proud of. But it doesn't take him long to grab me and shove me away from him once more. I skid back on my knees, feeling the ground burn my skin. Breathing heavy, I glare up at him, my hair falling into my eyes, clenching my teeth.

He shakes his head at me in amazement and I nod. "Yeah. I'm not giving up," I tell him and push myself to my feet. My heart pounds in my chest, pumping adrenaline through my veins as I charge toward Walter. He sidesteps to avoid me, wrapping his arms around me at the same time and holding me tightly while I struggle.

"Cadence, Cadence," he breathes in my ear, and it takes me a moment to realize he's trying to calm me down. It takes me even longer to actually calm down but once I do, I go limp in his arms. "You really want this, don't you?" he murmurs, sounding amazed.

I clench my teeth and snap, "Of course I do, you idiot, do you really think I would go through all this trouble to prove it to you just to-"

"Cadence!" he barks, interrupting me. When I twist around in his grip to look at him, he's shaking his head, rolling his eyes toward heaven as if to ask what to do with me. "If you really want it this much, then I will _attempt _to train you," he mutters.

I gape at him, shocked at this victory. "Really? Oh my God-"

"But that doesn't mean you'll _be _a vigilante," he interrupts me, giving me a firm, warning glare. "You could start training and then back out."

"What do you mean?"

He lets me go and stares at me, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I started training you in case trouble found you. Now that I know you'll be out _looking _for trouble, I won't go easy on you anymore."

My mouth pops open and I blink at him, wide-eyed. "You've been going _easy _on me!"

He smirks and motions to my house. "C'mon, Cadence. You should probably clean up before dinner."

_~r.~_

"Now you all are here based on a foolish dream you all share," Walter begins, throwing me a condescending glare. I raise my eyebrows challengingly but don't say anything. "I hope you all know that this training is going to be fierce," he continues, pacing slowly in front of us and giving each of us a dark glare. "Am I right to assume any of you are athletes?"

"I run track," Jimmy offers.

"I'm in football," Damien adds.

Walter nods to them and then eyes Eddie; I don't miss the sharp glint in them, and it makes me nervous.

"Football and basketball, baseball in the summer," he replies, undaunted, meeting Walter's stare directly.

I don't like the tension crackling between them and so I quickly say something to distract them. "I was in dance," I offer.

Walter turns to me. "Dance?" he repeats. I can't ignore the scornful edge to his voice.

"Yes, dance," I snap. "Not cheerleading, if that's what you're thinking. God knows those whores hate me too much to ever let me on their squad. But I _was _a dancer," I explain.

"The best," Eddie interjects, grinning at me, and I blush.

"How will that help you now?" Walter demands. "Fighting is not a dance. The steps are not predetermined," he warns me in a disapproving voice.

"No, but Rylie had to be really strong for dance," Eddie interrupts before I can reply stingingly. "It really helped her when she was training for football."

At that, Walter looks sharply at me. "You tried out for football?" he asks incredulously.

"Well, I wanted to. But it wouldn't have worked with my schedule at the time," I reply self-consciously.

"Hurm," he rumbles thoughtfully and then shakes his head. "Well, it's good that you all are athletic- it will help. But I'm warning you now that what you're getting into is infinitely harder and more dangerous than any sport," he says. "I suppose none of you are boxers?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I was in kickboxing for, like, a year," Jimmy replies excitedly, raising his hand in the air and waving it ecstatically.

"Featherweight?" Walter inquires dryly.

Jimmy glares at him. "Yeah, and _you're _one to talk, ya little-"

"Hey! Jim-jam," Damien hisses, shaking his head and placing a restraining hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. I glance nervously at Walter, fearing that I'll see him go flying at Jimmy in a rage. But he surprises me with the little smirk curving up one side of his mouth.

"Well, boxing is one of the better places to start when training to be a vigilante," he continues with a glance in my direction. "And I suppose we _will _start there...after a quick, er, _experimental _warm-up," he says and then turns to me. "Cadence, grab those logs over there and help me spread them around on the floor. Lay them out horizontally."

I blink. "Why-"

"No questions, Cadence. We're exercising your muscles, not your mouth," Walter interrupts, reaching for the stack of firewood lined up along the wall of the garage.

Scowling, I come over to help him and while we're working I hiss in his ear, "The mouth _is _a muscle, Walter."

He chuckles and replies, "But you won't be using it on patrol."

"Only if I'm willing to back it up."

"Yes, which is why you should concentrate on training so that you _can _back it up when the time comes. Now," he says, turning back to the guys, who are watching us. "One of the many things you must learn and perfect before going out on the street is balance. You must have perfect balance in order to be navigate the streets and fight its criminals."

"So...the logs...?" Jimmy trails off, looking skeptical.

"Are to teach you balance," Walter finishes, nodding. "We'll start off easy tonight. I want each of you to start at one corner of the garage and jump from log to log until you get to the other corner of the garage _without falling off. _Once you start there will be no stopping. If you fall off, I want you to start over from the beginning. We will do ten rounds of this tonight, and each time you do it I want you to get faster," he orders.

I wrinkle my nose, just as skeptical as Jimmy. "Okay, so, does anyone else think this is incredibly Asian, ninja-y? And plus, what is this gonna prove? These logs are, like, four inches off the ground!" I protest critically.

"Well, I was going to put you on metal spikes three stories above a fire pit and see how you do, but I figured we should start out a bit easier," Walter replies immediately.

I nod while he glares at me sternly and the other guys laugh. "Yeah, there's that scathing sarcasm that makes you such a cheerful person to be around," I mutter.

So we do his balance training, which actually turns out to be much more difficult than I originally had assumed. The first few rounds, I landed on my ass quite a bit and had to start all over. I was very much aware of Walter's eyes boring into my critically; I tried to tune him out but it turned out more difficult than the actual assignment and interfered with my concentration.

Finally, after many, many attempts, I got across ten times and when we were all finished, we headed out to the shop to start in on our boxing.

_**Rorschach**_

We're almost a week into our training when everything changes.

Despite all of my misgivings, I've found that, for the most part, I _like _training them. It gives me extra training so I'm in top shape when I head out on patrol every night, but I also find myself enjoying the company of Cadence's friends. Damien is funny, laid-back, and easygoing, though I can't help feeling awkward when he expresses his feelings for Jimmy. I just don't get it. Damien is the typical jock (though seems much nicer), and yet he's fallen for another young man. And he's _open _about it, too, though he's not flamboyant like Jimmy.

Even so, I like Damien, and I like Jimmy, too. He's got spirit and I like that. He's also not afraid to step up and voice his opinion, or fight, for that matter. This is a virtue, but could also be a vice. If he jumps into a fight he's not ready for, he's going to get himself killed.

And Eddie...well, I can't decide what to think of him right now. I like him, and yet I don't like him. I'm not sure what he truly thinks of me, either. It seems we _could _get along...except for Cadence. Somehow, she always seems to get in the way. Eddie is very defensive of her, and I suppose, in some ways, I am, too. We're both too protective and, because of this, we just can't get along exactly right.

Still, training is going along smoothly. We've been able, so far, to keep our training sessions a secret from Cadence's mother. I can see each of them slowly growing stronger, more skillful, though nowhere near as close as they'll need to be to finally head out on their first patrol. Yet their enthusiasm drives them forward, as well as their naivety, and I find it unexplainably refreshing. Crimefighting is my life; it's all I've known. It's somehow encouraging to be around younger, more optimistic fighters. They are fresh, new. Pure. Unstained by the darkness of the occupations they seek.

Wednesday night and we're heading to the garage. The temperature has dropped considerably and I see Cadence shiver lightly by my side.

A drop of water lands on Eddie's forehead and he looks up at the sky indignantly. "Is it raining out here? Am I spitting on myself?" he demands, staring at the darkening sky and turning around in a circle. Cadence laughs and pushes him into the garage.

They practice their balance while I watch and offer advice. Since their first attempt at this balance training, I have given them time limits. If they don't complete their ten rounds before the time cut-off, they owe me wall-sits for however long it takes them to complete their rounds.

Tonight, Eddie is the first one to fall, though they've all been getting better at avoiding this. He lands on a small, skinny log and wobbles; he waves his arms to try and catch his balance but eventually tumbles backwards. His ankle twists and pops audibly before he falls onto his back.

Cadence, of course, is the first one to hurry over to him and crouch by his side. "You alright?" she asks fretfully while I approach more slowly, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, just a sprain-AaCK!" Eddie exclaims, grabbing at his foot after trying to turn it to the right.

"Here, let me see," Cadence insists, gingerly picking up his injured foot and examining it. "Shit, Eddie, that's already really swollen," she murmurs, giving him an anxious glance.

He makes a face and exclaims, "Aw, hell!"

And suddenly, I remember.

_Daniel turns to me, looking directly at me as if he can see my eyes behind the mask. "She's yours, you know," he says._

_Daniel watches warily, unsure of me. I've never felt more dangerous, never felt as though I could ever hurt him until now._

_Daniel looks at me, and there is surprise in his warm brown eyes. I clutch his hand and never let go. _

_I never let go..._

"Daniel..." I breathe, feeling a hole yawn open in my chest, aching terribly. Something was once ripped from me and I'm only just now remembering the pain.

Now I know why Eddie looks so familiar. His eyes...he has Daniel's eyes!

"Eddie," I hiss. Eddie and Cadence look up at me sharply, surprised at my tone. "Your last name."

"What? What are you-"

"Your name!" I shout.

"Hollis," Eddie replies, startled. He and Cadence exchange confused glances.

Hollis. Not Dreiberg. _Of course, _I realize. _That's why I could never find anything about Daniel Dreiberg. He's not Dreiberg anymore; he had to change his name after that night..._

_"People outside, Daniel. Police."_

_"Laurie, don't..."_

_"Hammering now. Best hurry...Daniel, door won't hold long. Must go now before..." _

The police had known Daniel was Nite Owl. And Veidt knew too much about Daniel Dreiberg as well. He'd had to change his name. I look at Eddie, who is still staring at me, perplexed. "Your father is Nite Owl, isn't he?" I demand. He and Cadence exchange another glance, but this time it is uncertain, worried. Anger boils inside of me; there is no time for uncertainty! "Don't try to deny it," I snarl.

"Okay!" Eddie replies reluctantly, holding up his hands in defeat. "Yes, my dad is Nite Owl."

"Eddie!" Cadence protests, staring at him in shock.

"Well, he has a right to know," Eddie retorts.

"Yes, but-"

"I've got to see him," I interrupt before they can get any deeper into their argument. Both of them look at me; everyone falls silent.

Finally, Cadence finds her voice. "You...you can't-"

I whip around to glare at her. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"Walter, no, you can't just leave! We just started training!" she protests.

"I have to see Daniel," I repeat stubbornly.

She blinks at me. "So you would just abandon me to go on some trip to New York to meet some guy who thinks you're dead?" she asks quietly, sounding hurt.

I stare at her in shock. "I just met you," I reply after a pause. "Daniel was my friend for years."

A spasm of hurt flashes across Cadence's face, but before she can say anything, Eddie turns to me. "I'll call my dad and tell him to expect a visitor," he murmurs quietly. Cadence gapes at him. He looks back at her solemnly.

I blink at him, surprised. "You would do that?" I ask. He nods, and I see him smile just a bit in a reluctant, almost grudging way.

"Fine," Cadence says shortly, standing up. "Just leave. Go to New York and just forget about the rest of us. Good fucking riddance," she mutters and storms out the door.

"Cadence!" Damien hollers and runs after her, followed by Jimmy.

Eddie and I turn back to each other. "She'll be alright. Sometimes she can be a bit touchy," he tells me.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know," I reply and then I look at him, trying to convey my anxiety without saying I'm afraid. "What will you say?" I inquire quietly.

He shrugs. "I'll just tell him to expect someone to be paying him a visit, and to have an open mind. I won't tell him it's you; he wouldn't believe me even if I did," he assures me. "But when you reveal to him that you're actually alive and not a zombie, try to do it in a way that won't give him a heart attack, okay?"

I nod, furrowing my brows. That will be hard. It was hard enough to admit to Cadence that I was who she thought I was. It will be much, much harder to face Daniel.

"How will you get there?" Eddie asks.

I open my mouth to tell him I'm not sure, when an idea comes to me. Or maybe _he _puts it there. "I have a way," I reply.

_~r.~_

"Manhattan...How am I back here? Where are we?" I stand in the place where I remember waking up, waking up from... I shake my head, my mind tumbling in a thousand different directions. I can't remember. I can't remember where I was before Manhattan recreated me.

"We are on Mars. I transported you here from Earth," Manhattan replies calmly.

I narrow my eyes. "But I thought you said that they had radars set up to detect your energy signature," I remind him.

He nods. "They do. But I assumed that it makes less noise on their radars if I transport other people, rather than travelling to Earth myself. I saw myself testing the theory, and so I have," he explains. "Now. You have something on your mind. I am listening."

I lift my eyes and stare directly into his. "I need you to do me a favor."

He nods, unsurprised. "I know you do," he responds.

And then, in a flash of bright blue light, the world around me disappears.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: YAY! Reunion? I think yes! I know you all have been waiting for it, and, let's face it, so have I. So don't miss the next chapter! It will be, as the kids say it nowadays, off the chain :) Please review!


	18. Eighteen

NOTE: Okay, so I know some of you have been itching to see Rorschach...you know, the mean one :) Unfortunately, he won't be appearing in _this _story for a while because if he did it would be bad for the plot. See, his recreation is almost like a second chance for him, so Rorschach has to be reintroduced slowly. Oh, gosh, I hope I didn't scare away my readers! :( BUT I have come up with something to remedy this little problem- I will be writing a sidestory that (sort of) goes with this one. I will be posting it with this chapter, with more information in the summary and such, but it will be all Rorschach...you know, the mean one ;) Alright! Enough of my rambling! Please enjoy

18. Homecoming

New York's glittering lights wink at me as I step out of the shadows. I stare in wonder as memories flood through me, tossing and turning like waves on the ocean. I have not been here in years. It is so different, and yet the same. As I watch the lights flicker and listen to the loud, oppressive noises that are so familiar, I feel...I feel...

Disgusted.

Part of the disgust I've felt before- I remember so many things at once: the citizens, the criminals, the blood and sweat, the grime and filth. Rorschach screams just under the surface at the corruption, the sin. I think of Lawrence _(Cadence...) _and all of the criminals there...it is _clean _compared to this city and everything I remember about it.

And still part of my disgust is new, though not wholly unfamiliar. I think again of _(Cadence...) _Lawrence, of the people there and the detached air that fills the city. Everything there is so disconnected from everything else, and it is because of the phones and ipods and computers and the entire lifestyle everyone has chosen.

I remember something Cadence once said to me: _The government _wants _us to be disconnected. They want us to be their little "robot slaves". They _want _us to not care. _

I look around at this city, this city that is half-home and half-not, and my heart fills with sadness and anger. New York feels just like Lawrence- cold, detached, emotionless.

_Don't be foolish. Shouldn't assume so quickly. Need evidence, _Rorschach snaps at me. But I know deep down that I won't have to look around to see it clearly for myself. I step out onto the sidewalk and start walking.

_Cadence was right, _I think and glare up at the towering buildings above me. _They've turned us into robots._

_~r.~_

"Mr. Veidt."

"Yes?"

"We've just received intelligence that Dr. Manhattan's energy signature was detected just a few minutes ago."

"Where?"

"Here."

"_Here? _In Manhattan?"

"Yes."

"Get men on the ground now. We have to contain this."

"Yes, Mr. Veidt."

_~r.~_

I am not far from where I remember Daniel used to live. Everything is very different, so new, and yet my feet seem to remember the way instinctively.

Around me, shadows clash and collide with light; my heart is just as chaotic. I still haven't figured out what I'll say, I am scared of what he'll think, I wonder if he's any different, what if-

Something hard slams into my back; pain arcs up and down my spine as I fall to the ground. I turn, fighting the pain, but it seems as though the world is suddenly filled with people, too many people. They drag me into the alley; I lash out and send someone flying but someone else quickly takes their place.

"Grab him, _grab him!" _someone shouts. I snarl, fighting back as they pull me roughly to my feet and slam me against the alley wall. I throw my fist forward and catch someone's jaw, but in the next second, something fiery stabs into my side. Unbelievable pain shivers through me; unable to control my body, I convulse and fall to the ground. The world warps in my eyes; mym attackers move around me, but I am sinking, sinking...

_No, Walter. _

I blink, searching through my disappearing sight for the source of the voice, so clear amid the swirling confusion.

_Get up. You know how to fight this, _the voice continues.

_Manhattan? _I whisper weakly in my mind. I've never heard him so stern before...and I've never felt more like sleeping...sleeping...

_Walter! _His voice is sharp, reprimanding. I blink open my eyes and my vision suddenly clears. _Fight! _

A surge of energy, I am on my feet, the pain still lingers, but...the world has returned! Sharper, now, in the pain. I fight the men; I catch them by surprise and so, at first, I seems as though I have a chance of winning this.

But reality soon comes crashing down- there are just too many of them, and there is no way out...alive. I narrow my eyes in determination; they may take my life, but I will not let them win. There is no fear in me, just frustration and disappointment. I never got to see Daniel. Sadness makes my heart heavy. In front of me, one the men raises his arm and points a gun.

Time slows down; I notice everything. I am able to see that the man is wearing a suit. _They _all _are. Hurm, _I muse thoughtfully.

Inside of me, I have time to consider the regret twisting in my chest, and it is more than just the regret of not being able to see Daniel.

_Cadence. _My mind sighs her name. _Sorry we couldn't finish our training. Or our resistance movement, _I apologize. In my head, I can see her, how she would have looked if I could have told her this to her face- her mouth twisted into that irritated little grimace, her eyes glowing with that stubborn spark I've come to know and recognize and even admire. I close my eyes and smile. The man pulls the trigger and I brace myself for the impact...

When the impact comes, it's not from where I expect it. Something slams into me from the side just as the bullet cuts cleanly through the air where I had just been. My eyes fly open in shock as I and the other person slam into the alley wall. Looking up, my heart stops beating in my chest for a moment. He is turned away from me, already returning to the fight, but I would know his uniform anywhere.

_Daniel! _my mind breathes out in relief. I am instantly dizzy with the force of the emotions that hit me then. In the next second, instinct has me on my feet. I cannot let Daniel fight without me.

As I push myself into the fight, we fall into step instantly; it is so effortless that I don't think Daniel notices at first. But I do, and it feels good to have him by my side again.

Before I know it, there are only three of us on our feet amidst the motionless bodies around us. I turn to the third person, preparing to fight, but after a moment I draw back in surprise. The hair, short and blonde, is wrong and the outfit, all black and less feminine than her last, is wrong, but I recognize her face. She glares down at one of the men beneath her, pointing a gun at him.

Daniel flashes forward and grabs her hands. "Laurie, no!" he murmurs in a voice so low I can barely hear it.

"Dan, we can't let them go, they're agents!" she hisses at him, her eyes wide; there is a feral gleam in them that surprises me.

"We don't kill unless we have to," Daniel replies, as though he's reminding her gently of something they've already discussed many times. She stares at him desperately, looking as though she wants to argue, and then slowly lowers the gun.

I feel my heart stutter in my chest. Now is the time, I can feel it. A hot surge of nerves makes me wince but I carry on. I take a step toward them and quietly murmur, "Daniel."

Daniel and Laurie turn to me curiously. I only look at Daniel. I can't see his eyes through his goggles, but his mouth pops open in shock. Laurie gasps at his side. It's a moment before anyone says anything. And then...

"R-_rorschach?" _Daniel splutters, sounding as though he hasn't got enough air in his lungs. I just blink at him, remaining silent, unsure of how to continue. Daniel stumbles back a few paces and Laurie has to catch him so he won't fall; he clutches onto her arm so strongly for support that she trembles with him. "Laurie...do you...is he..."

"I see him, Dan," Laurie murmurs wonderingly, staring at me in disbelief.

"It...it's not him, it can't be him," Daniel continues to stammer wildly, as if trying to reassure himself that I can't possibly be standing in front of him.

"Dan, I...I think it is," Laurie replies. "I mean, _look _at him."

"If you're Rorschach, why don't you say something?" Daniel demands, taking off his goggles and glaring at me. I blink, taken by surprise at the tears in his eyes. He steps toward me. "Well? Say something!" he barks, marching over to me until we are standing less than a foot apart. He grips my shoulders and shakes me as the tears start to fall. "Say something, dammit!" he shouts angrily.

All I can say is, "Daniel." He pauses and looks at me, his eyes glittering with tears, and there is so much emotion, so many unspoken words, I can feel it, so heavy, against my skin.

And then, sobbing, he embraces me. I grow rigid with shock, unsure of what to do. I begin to edge away a little, unused to such close proximity, but Daniel holds me close and cries into my neck and I keep still for him. Over his shoulder, I see Laurie watching us; her expression is shocked and wondering, her eyes bright with tears and I remember...something...It flits elusively across my mind and flutters away, frustratingly close and potent yet too quick to grab ahold of.

But it doesn't matter. Daniel is here and we are together and the hole in my chest is gone.

_~r.~_

"So Jon brought you back to life?" Daniel asks slowly as he and Laurie sit down on their couch, each holding a cup of coffee. I nod, holding my own and scrutinizing them thoughtfully.

Daniel, like Laurie, has dyed his hair blonde, and he's gotten contacts. He has grown soft physically due to old age, something I find startling simply because it seems so sudden, but I can tell that he's kept up the old training, kept strength in his muscles.

His eyes are the things that have changed the most, though if I look deep enough I am sure I can see the old Daniel in them. His brown eyes are haunted, hardened, betraying just how tired he feels now.

_Not young, _I think to myself and feel a strange, mournful wave of loss. _Not young like me. _I realize in that moment that things are never going to be exactly the same between us again. He is too old. I am too young. I am supposed to be dead. He is married to Laurie. He has a son. But what I am aware of most of all is the poignant, overpowering feeling that too much time has passed, that it is too late...

"When?"

I look up, blinking. "Hm?"

"When did Jon recreate you?" Laurie repeats.

"Sometime in late January," I reply, shaking the cloying emotions from my mind.

"Did he say why?" Daniel asks.

I nod. "Manhattan said that I was to return here to find someone to help exposet the truth about Veidt and the government," I respond evenly.

"Who?" Laurie asks curiously.

I look at the two of them steadily, meaningfully, knowing they will understand. "Cadence," I answer.

They blink at me, silent for a moment. "You...you mean...Cadence _Howard?" _Daniel asks after a moment. There is something in his voice, something that makes me think he knows more than I meant to imply.

I nod. "Manhattan transported me to Lawrence and I met her there. I'm training her to be a vigilante," I tell them.

"You're _what?" _Laurie exclaims. I look at her and there is anger in her eyes. Anger and...fear? Regret?

I cock my head to the side. "She wants to be a vigilante. I'm training her and some of her friends," I reply. Carefully. Slowly. I want them to hear the words I'm not saying beneath the words I am.

Rage and disbelief burn in Laurie's eyes, and she draws herself up to her full height. "Are you telling me that you are training-"

"Laurie," Daniel murmurs, laying a restraining hand lightly on her arm. She turns to him, glaring, her jaw clenched and her blue eyes blazing. I almost smile, reminded of Cadence.

When Daniel turns back to me, his eyes are serious. "Now. What are you trying to say, Rorschach?" he inquires in a quiet voice. I'm not fooled. I can tell that he knows what I'm saying.

"Your son's name is Eddie, right?"

"Yes. That's his middle name, but that's what we all call him, yes," he replies.

I look directly into Daniel's eyes and say, "I'm training him to be a vigilante."

"No." Daniel's voice is sharp and immediate and leaves no room for argument. "There's no way. You're not training him. He will not be what we were," he tells me firmly.

"He wants to be," I reply. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if I've ever seen him look so dangerously serious but I can't remember.

"I don't care! It's too fucking dangerous and what kills me is, you _know _it!" he shouts, standing up abruptly and glaring at me. His new-hardened eyes burn like coals but I don't flinch. This is Daniel.

"You have to let him choose, Daniel," I say patiently. "You can't run his life forever."

With his burning eyes and clenched jaw, he sweeps forward and points his finger at me, barely a foot from me now. "I will not let him choose this life. Do you think I want him to go running around, chasing criminals and ruining himself like-"

He cuts off abruptly, looking away, and I stiffen, narrowing my eyes. It's like I can hear him finish his sentence in my mind. "Like me?" I finish for him.

Daniel flushes, embarrassed, and shakes his head. "No, that's...that's not what I meant, okay?"

I sigh, holding up my hand to cut him off before he goes on. "Relax, Daniel. Can't remember everything anyway," I reassure him, though inwardly I'm wondering what he meant. _What am I missing?_

He blinks at me, surprised. "You can't?" I shake my head. "Well then how did you remember me?" he asks.

I lower my head, avoiding his gaze, and murmur quietly, "How could I forget you, Daniel?" After a moment I glance up at him and his expression has softened. I recognize that look; I see the younger Daniel in it.

And then his expression changes; so many emotions flash through my eyes that I can't pick out any of them. When his expression finally settles, his look is casual and I immediately distrust it. "So you remembered me?" he begins slowly.

"Yes, Daniel, keep up," I snap impatiently.

He exchanges a quick glance with Laurie and then looks at me. "What about..." But he trails off uncertainly.

I narrow my eyes. "What about what?" I prompt.

He shakes his head. "Never mind," he sighs.

My skin prickles with frustration but before I can say anything, Laurie cuts in loudly. "Look, this is all very sweet but you're both getting off topic. Eddie is _not _going to become a vigilante. I've seen it ruin too many people," she growls.

"Laurie, I understand you being protective of Eddie but this is _his _decision," I tell her, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice.

She looks directly at me then and, in a voice like broken glass, says, "Rorschach, if you teach my son to be a vigilante I will do everything in my power to change your bodily make-up so that you can't procreate. I don't need Jon for that."

"Well, Laurie, if you weren't always so preoccupied with sex-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Daniel cuts me off, stepping in between us at the exact second Laurie stands up to face me. "Calm down both of you," he orders. "This is no time to fight."

Laurie gapes at him. "Dan, did you hear what he just said? He's teaching Eddie to fight! We can't just-"

"I know," he interrupts, nodding to her and then turning to me. "You _won't _teach Eddie to fight." I open my mouth to argue but Daniel cuts me off. "We have other things to discuss right now," he says, eyeing me meaningfully. After a moment, I close my mouth and nod. Laurie scowls but sits back down, purposely turning away from me.

"Why don't you sit down?" Daniel suggests, indicating the recliner closest to me.

I nod wordlessly, but when I go to sit down, spasms of pain shoot through me. I hiss in a quick breath, wincing, and lower myself gingerly into the chair. The skin where I was tased burns, and I grimace, thinking of the bright red welts that are most likely there.

"Are you okay?" Daniel asks anxiously, holding his hands out to me in uncertainty.

"Fine, Daniel," I assure him, nodding, though I have to concentrate on not gritting my teeth. "Just sore."

He purses his lips and I worry that he will argue, but he just shakes his head and sits down next to Laurie. "So. How much do you know?" he asks. I don't have to ask to know he's referring to the government.

I shrug. "A lot," I admit. "Cadence has been teaching me."

Daniel blinks, shocked, but it is Laurie who speaks. "_Cadence _has?" she demands and exchanges a glance with Daniel.

I eye them suspiciously. "Yes..." What is it that they know that I don't? "What's wrong with that?"

Laurie hesitates. "N-nothing, nothing," she stammers. She avoids my gaze as she answers. I narrow my eyes. Lying.

"It's just weird to think of the little girl we've known since she was a baby getting involved in stuff like this," Daniel interjects, coming to Laurie's rescue. "Oh, which reminds me- you're not going to teach her to be a vigilante either."

I raise an eyebrow. "Don't tell _her _that," I comment.

Daniel grins, nodding. "Right. Stubborn," he replies, chuckling, and then peers at me curiously. "And so are you," he says and laughs. "How's that working out for ya?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, just peachy," I reply scathingly.

Daniel laughs again and even Laurie cracks a smile. And it's so nice, sitting here with Daniel. Even though things are different, even as the conversation returns to tyranny and corruption, I feel happy. I feel at home.

_~r.~_

Daniel offers to let me stay at their house for as long as I plan on being in New York. Since I have no idea how long this will be, and because I'm used to living on my own, I try to decline. But Daniel pesters me and even Laurie joins in to convince me (I believe her exact words were "You might as well stay because if we let you loose on the world and you die or explode or something, I think Dan'll go crazy.") And so, after much consideration, that's how I find myself staying at Daniel's house.

"On one condition."

"Yes, Laurie?"

"Take a fuckin' shower."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah, yes, the much-awaited reunion. I hope I did it justice :P And, yes, so many unanswered questions...but they will be answered soon. I'm already working on the next chapter :) Please review! And check out my other story!


	19. Nineteen

NOTE: This chapter requires the song "Robot Boy" by Linkin Park since it's the chapters title and part of its inspiration.

19. Robot Boy

_**Rylie**_

The night is cold. It has just finished snowing, a short, wet snowfall that dusts the ground with an inch of whiteness. I walk, slowly and determinedly, across the yard to the trampoline, balancing delicately on the slippery ice surface.

The night sky is clear and frosty, the stars glittering, impersonal, down at me. I am heading out to train by myself. Walter can abandon me if he must but I will still be a vigilante. If I must go on alone, then I will.

I grab a broom form the shop and start scraping up the ice from the trampoline. _This is actually a pretty good work-out, _I think to myself, feeling my arm muscles strain as I try to pry up a particularly large piece.

_I'll have to think of some creative ways to keep up the vigilante training, _I think, remembering Walter's idea with the logs. Sadness pierces my heart; I try to hide it with anger. "Don't need him," I growl under my breath, sweeping a plate of ice so hard it goes flying and cracks against the trunk of a nearby tree.

After a moment, I'm aware of a shifting of weight on the trampoline and I glance over, unsurprised to see Eddie. He looks at me solemnly, as if he knows what I'm thinking, and then begins to help me sweep away the rest of the ice. We don't speak and we don't need to.

_**Rorschach**_

It's disconcerting not being able to see the stars. The city lights block them out. _It's not like this at Cadence's house, _I think uneasily and then shake my head impatiently. _Don't be such a coward! _

The cold creeps in through my jacket and I think longingly of my trenchcoat. Manhattan didn't transport my uniform here with me, and its absence makes me nervous. Inside I know why he did it- he can't risk Veidt seeing Rorschach. _Too many suits around, _I think darkly, remembering Daniel and Laurie's explanation of the attack three nights ago.

"They're agents that work for Veidt," Laurie had told me. "We call them suits."

Daniel had nodded, his brown eyes hard. "They keep watch over us, monitor situations and, when they need to, _control _situations," he'd explained.

I had sat up straight in my chair, alarmed. "Does that mean they know who I am?"

But Laurie had shook her head and said, "No. More likely they picked up Jon's energy signature when he teleported you. They watch for that."

"But even so, you probably shouldn't go out on patrol or anything while you're here. They try to act like you never existed but this city has never forgotten," Daniel told me grimly. And then he had grinned. "You know the New Frontiersman published your journal?"

I had nodded, feeling a smirk twitch lightly at the corner of my mouth. "Yes, Cadence told me."

"Ah, yeah, she was quite a fan. Man, I wish you could've seen the uproar those journal entries caused," he'd said, chuckling.

I smile; I wish I could've seen it, too. There is something inside of me that longs to see this city alive with chaos, to see it aflame with the words I have given them. _They know my words. I don't, _I think wistfully. I try to concentrate on what little I remember, but after a while it makes my head hurt. It's as though I can hear things, muffled shrieks, words I can't make out. Sometimes emotions come attached to them, but the emotions hurt. They are angry and cut deep like knives. Finally I give up, sighing shakily. _Just what have I forgotten about? _I wonder while the pain pulses steadily in my heart.

It is when the pain has almost faded from my chest that I hear it. Angry shouts and then a gunshot. Without thinking, I leap into action, not caring that I am not in uniform. The pull from a crisis is too strong- it reaches right into my heart and tugs me forward, like a hook jammed deep into my chest. Compulsary.

When I reach the commotion, part of me wonders whether my wish to see this city in chaos suddenly came true. Outside of a small grocery store, crowds of people are yelling and fighting. Standing back for a moment, I narrow my eyes to see which group I should be fighting against. After a moment, I pick out a young Latino pointing a knife at what appears to be a businessman. At his side, a younger man is holding a black garbage sack bulging with what can only be stolen goods. And it's clear.

Feeling the tug of the hook in my heart, beating in time to the adrenaline, I leap into the crowd. The boy with the knife turns on me, slashing in a high arc that catches me just over my eyebrow. Blood drips into my eye but I blink it away quickly and punch him hard in the jaw. I feel the satisfying crack of a broken bone beneath my knuckles as he careens backwards, the knife flying out of his hand.

Someone grabs my shoulder and turns me around, shouting something that I can't understand through the pounding in my ears. They draw back their arm to hit me but I am quicker. Ducking down, I let the force of the punch send him foreward and then quickly bring my elbow up into his chin. While he's still dazed, I swing my leg up and around; the heel of my shoes slams into the side of his head and he goes down.

The people closest to the store have stepped back, watching with wide, shocked eyes. I turn to glare at them. "Leave," I growl. "Leave now." After a few moments, they all retreat inside. I can't have spectators about; they will just get in the way, and I can't have them guessing at my identity.

But, turning back, I realize that maybe it might have been nice to have some sort of backup. More men have joined the original group, sneering at me challengingly. Their eyes gleam with a deadly light. Little flashes in their hands alert me to the knives and broken bottles they aim at me. Some of them have guns.

I glare back at them wordlessly. I can't let uncertainty show. I try to summon Rorschach to the surface but without my mask, it's much more difficult. The men close in around me and I am surrounded. And then suddenly, as I'm trying to lift Rorschach to the forefront, a vision blooms before my eyes. I am kneeling in front of a bed...not really a bed by normal standards, more of a mattress on slats. My vision is blurry and I can't tell where I am. But I know that I am sinking, falling into a sea of grief, wrapped up in an unfathomable world of pain. It feels like there are broken pieces of me lying on the floor. I can feel the darkness sucking at me, threatening to take me over, and I long for arms around me, to hold me together...

The pain fills me in the present and I try to push it back in order to concentrate. _Of all the things to remember at a time like this, _I grumble in my head, trying to shake the darkness still clinging to me.

A moment later, they converge on me. There are men all around me, all of them trying to kill me, and I have to call on all of my skills as a vigilante to keep from getting hurt. The world disappears in a haze of red until all I can see are the opponents around me; there is just me and them and the heat all around me. Despite the fact that I am not completely emerged in Rorschach, I feel the same freedom I've always felt while fighting for my life. The strength in my body flows, uninhibited, and I can let it flow out instead of containing it. The blood feels like pure adrenaline in my veins.

There is a knife stabbing into my shoulder. I turn and kick out toward my attacker, catching him in the side of his face. Blood and teeth explode from his mouth and he falls to the ground. Reaching back, I pull the knife from my shoulder and, just in time, I spin around and duck under the arc of another knife. As I come back up, I stab the knife into my attacker's knee and then kick him in the stomach. Groaning in pain, he stumbles backward and collapses.

At that moment, someone leaps onto my back and reaches around to press a large piece of broken glass to my throat. "So, you little skeeze. You think you can tear _us _down, huh? You think you can beat us?" he sneers, his breath hot against my ear. "You know what you're gonna have to do to win? You're gonna have to kill all of us."

I shake my head. "No," I reply. "Just have to kill you." It is then that I swing around and slam both of us into the wall of the store. I step away and he falls off. I don't waste any time; I will show these boys just what I will have to do to each of them if they continue in their criminal ways. Picking up a broken bottle dropped by one of the men, I grab the man by the collar of his shirt and hold him up so that I have a clear shot. Then I shove the broken end of the bottle deep into his eye.

He screams in agony, clutching at me, at his face, trying to escape. But I will not let him. Turning, I keep holding on steadily, letting my fingers dig into his throat. The other men have stopped and are staring at me uncertainly. I meet their gazes calmly. "Unless you want to end up like him, I suggest you all leave now," I tell them evenly. I memorize their faces. They may get away tonight, but I will come back later to take care of them when I have my...

_No._

Manhattan's voice surprises me so much that I nearly release my victim. It is loud, and at first I wonder if anyone else heard it. But the terrified expressions have not left my attackers' faces and I realize it's only in my head.

_You don't have your costume, Walter. You can't go after them later, _Manhattan continues. I blink, wondering how this can be happening. _I will explain later. Right now it is my suggestion that you focus._

I grit my teeth and shake my head in irritation. Whatever is going on, Manhattan's voice is right. I must focus. "Leave now, and I spare you all this same fate," I order, shaking my victim in front of the others so that blood comes splashing from the bottle. The man groans but I can tell he has started to lose consciousness; the whole front side of him is soaked in blood and his skin has paled to a sickly white.

After a moment, the men start to back away. One of them spits in my direction before disappearing into the night. After they've gone, I drop my victim with disgust, shaking the blood from my hands. The men and women in the store stare at me from the window; I'm surprised their noses aren't pressed against the glass. I blink at them and then turn away quickly, so as not to give them a clear glimpse of my face. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I turn and walk away without a backward glance.

It takes me a few moments to decide that I'm either going crazy or something very strange is happening between Manhattan and I. And there is only one way to figure it out. _Manhattan? _I think tentatively in my head.

_Yes, Walter?_

I blink, shocked. _What...is going on? _I think, almost speaking out loud but stopping myself just in time.

_We are communicating._

I grimace, rolling my eyes. _Yes, I realize that, _I snap. _What I meant by that was _how?

_When I created you, I left my trace in you. You are not completely human the way you would think. You are just minutely different in your make-up, but that allows us to connect in a way far different from that of your peers, _Manhattan replies steadily.

I stop right where I am. The street I'm on is dark and quiet. _I'm not...human? _I think shakily. How can I not be human?

_You are. But your genetic build is just slightly different than that of other humans, _Manhattan says. _As can only be expected from one who was created asexually rather than sexually. _

_But...I _was..._I mean, created...you know...the other way, _I think, feeling myself squirm unconsciously at the thought of using the word "sexually", even in scientific terms.

_Yes, but it is impossible to expect to be recreated in exactly the same way you were before, _Manhattan answers. _And, just as you have traces of your parents through conception, you have traces of me in you now, as I am your creator. _

I flinch, feeling my head spin. _So...does this mean I can...you know...teleport? _I ask hesitantly.

_No. There is not that significant of a trace in you. But there are small differences. You are more in tune with the electricity that exists in trace amounts in nerve endings and synapses. That is how you could withstand the effect of the tasers three nights ago._

My eyes flash open wide. So _that's _what Manhattan had meant when he'd said I knew how to fight it.

_Yes, that is what I'd meant, _he agrees and then continues. _The trace is also how we are speaking right now. We are able to communicate through telepathy because the electrical activity in your brain is slightly more similar to mine now. _

I am about to ask him what else it is that is unnatural about me, but before I can even organize my thoughts, Manhattan is speaking again. _Walter. To your right. Now! _

It is only because of Manhattan's warning that I am able to spin around and catch the arm of an attacker who has leaped out from the alley beside me. If he hadn't warned me, I would have been too distracted by these new revelations to defend myself properly.

My attacker, whom I recognize from the criminals at the store, is about my size and he is not stronger than me, but he is stubborn. I grip his wrist tightly, so tightly I can feel the bones shriek in protest beneath, but instead of trying to escape the man shoves foreward against me, trying to force me back. Grimly, I shove back and force him into the darkness of the alley. Without hesitation, I throw him to the ground and slam my knuckles into his face. Blood splashes up onto my face as his nose crunches underneath my fist.

As I draw my hand away, my attacker looks up at me, blood smeared across his face, and I realize with surprise that he is only a boy. He is maybe sixteen or seventeen. _Cadence's age, _I think. He glares up at me with determined, fearless eyes, and growls, "Jeez, what the fuck are _you _supposed to be, some sorta cop?"

I press my face close to his and snarl, "Do I look like a cop?"

The boy narrows his eyes but doesn't flinch. "You can kill me," he says, "but you will never destroy me."

I blink, drawing back slightly. His words reverberate deeply in my mind and, for some reason, I am reminded of Cadence. In my head, someone else speaks. _Close your eyes, Rorschach, _Manhattan urges me.

And in that moment, I remember. _Sometimes it's easier to see with your eyes closed... _In the note he had left me, Manhattan had given me one of his cryptic lines. But now I know what it means, in a sudden burst of intuition. This boy is a criminal. He and his gang are criminals; they steal and are willing to take lives in order to escape punishment. But his words...his words, they remind me of Cadence, something she would say.

Quickly, I search his face for a tattoo. I find it on his neck just under his earlobe. A tiny inkblot. Immediately my suspicions are confirmed and it all sinks in. The criminals are truthers, just like in Lawrence. Remembering what I did to the man with the bottle, I feel a slight stab of regret. Though he was a criminal, he had been willing to resist the government.

_But...doesn't that make him bad? _I ask myself, struggling to accept that a criminal's resistance could ever outweigh his crimes. Rorschach fights his way to the surface, screaming. _No! He is still a criminal. He is scum._

_No, Rorschach. Close your eyes, _Manhattan interrupts and I blink, confused. _Close your eyes to see._

And then it makes sense. Rorschach only sees in black and white. That is why it is easier to be him- none of the confusing gray areas that I have to navigate. So in order to see the good in the criminal truthers, I must close Rorschach's eyes to their transgressions.

_Yes, _Manhattan sighs in my mind and then falls silent.

Beneath me, the boy sneers. "What? Too good to kill me now, huh? Are you _above_ killing now? Gonna _hire_ somebody to do it for ya?" he demands challengingly.

I stare down at him quietly, eyes narrowed and unblinking, while Rorschach and Walter rage inside of me. Rorschach wants to punish this criminal. Walter wants to let him go. I close my eyes for a moment, steadying my breathing, calming the storm inside me. When I open my eyes, I have made my decision. Manhattan didn't transport my mask and uniform here for a reason.

I am Walter tonight.

I stand up and step away to let the boy scramble to his feet. He glares at me, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yo, what the fuck is up with you?" he demands, wiping the blood from his face. "What's your game?"

After a short pause, I turn and start to walk away. "It would be wise to wear a mask next time. Don't want the government knowing their enemy. Better to keep them in the dark," I mutter without looking back at him.

There is a beat of silence and then I hear footsteps behind me, running to catch up. I stop when the boy blocks my path. "What did you say?" he hisses, shocked.

I shrug. "Just suggesting that a disguise would be a healthy habit to get into in your line of work," I reply.

He gapes at me, awestruck. "Who are you?" he asks quietly.

I raise an eyebrow. "Aren't you street at all?" I reply. "Don't you know it's not wise to run around telling everyone your identity?"

"Right, but..." The boy trails off, blinking, completely caught off guard. "You're...you're one of us, right? I mean, you're a truther, aren't you?"

I examine his face for a moment. The hatred is gone, wiped clean, like taking off a mask. Underneath there is just a boy, a boy who is young and naive, his cheeks still soft and round, his eyes still bright. There is hope in them; he is looking at _me _with that hope. For the third time tonight, he reminds me of Cadence. Sighing, I nod. "Yes, you could say that I'm a truther," I tell him.

The boy nods, an excited grin spreading across his face. Then his eyes search my body skeptically and he frowns after a moment, puzzled. "If you're a truther, where's your mark?" he asks.

Instantly I know he's referring to the tattoo. Smiling grimly, I just shake my head. "I don't need one. Trust me, I have enough ink inside me," I mutter. Rorschach turns restlessly deep in my body, like a spoiled monster brat just waiting to unleash a tantrum.

The boy looks confused but doesn't question me. I begin to walk away but he stops me again. "Wait. Why did you attack me and the crew back there? Didn't you know it was us?" he inquires, seeming genuinely curious. Despite the fact that I must have broken his nose he seems to be over it. _He's _very_ young, _I think to myself.

"I'm not part of a gang. I'm..." I hesitate. I was about to say "I'm alone" but it just doesn't seem right when I have Daniel as a partner. _And Cadence, _a soft voice reminds me in the back of my head. I grit my teeth and shake the voice away, wishing it were Manhattan's. The fact that my own subconscious considers Cadence a partner is dangerous and stupid. She's not even a vigilante.

"I have a partner that I work with," I finish. The boy nods, his dark eyes growing round and solemn.

"That must be rough, just you and your partner," he muses, though his voice sounds wistful, as though he wishes he were in my position.

But I shake my head. "It's not as rough as you'd think," I respond, thinking of Daniel. Though I can't remember everything, the memories I _do _have are of how good a partner Daniel was. _A good friend, too, _I remind myself.

The boy smiles. "Well, I guess it's a bit like working with your best friend, right?" he asks, as though reading my thoughts. Then, before I can respond, he shrugs. "I mean, I've always kinda wanted to work solo, or in a partnership. Ya know, cuz people respect you more, like right off the bat. See, cuz, they think you all that if you can hold your own, just yourself and a partner." He stops and shrugs again. "But I guess there's benefits to bein' in a gang, too. See, cuz, they your family."

I look at him, feeling as though he has just delivered a blow. I flinch backward, remembering the broken bottle, the man's eye, the blood... Before I can stop myself, the words come tumbling from my mouth. "I killed one of your own tonight. With the bottle."

The boy blinks at me, drawing back. "Him? No, no, that wasn't one of _my _boys. He's from a rival gang; likes to stir up trouble. 'Course, they're truthers just like us, but, bad blood runs deep, know what I'm sayin'?"

His words sink in quickly. I look at the boy, confused. "So why were _you _there?" I demand.

The boy shrugs. "I was pickin' up some things for my boys when they all come in with this huge bag and start stealin' stuff. See, cuz, they have this philosophy that if they don't buy anything they'll send a message to the government, ya know, cuz the government charges all these crazy prices for poisoned food and shit." I nod, remembering Cadence telling me something similar.

"So they go around stealin' stuff whenever they need it- and really, if ya ask me, they givin' the rest of us gangs a bad rep." I almost laugh at that but let the boy continue. "So, I's in there and they start stealin' and I'm like 'Well, that's no good, can't let these fuckers get away with it', and then next thing you know I'm outside surrounded by gang members and angry shoppers," he says with a chuckle, then blinks at me. "Then you show up and you're all badass and beat the shit out of 'em. But I'm thinkin' 'Hey, I don't know this guy, he's probably some undercover suit tryin' to control the situation'. So that's why I attacked you," he finishes, glancing away guiltily.

I raise an eyebrow. "Ah. Well, I hope you've learned a valuable lesson. Never pick a fight with someone you'll never win against," I tell him.

He looks back up at me, and the hard, determined edge is back in his eyes. "Ain't that what we doin' with the government?" he demands challengingly.

A smirk twitches at the corner of my mouth. "Except them," I clarify. "Even if you can't win, it's always nice to rough _them_ up a little bit."

The boy grins. "Yeah, damn fuckin' straight," he says and raises his hand slightly. I blink at him, unsure of what to do. "Well, c'mon, man. Gimme some skin," he urges me impatiently after a moment.

Hesitantly, though Rorschach growls under the surface, I clap my hand into his and he grips it for a moment before letting go. "Well, hey, man, guess I'll see ya around," he says and rubs his nose. "Next time let's be a bit more polite," he mutters, grimacing.

I snort. "Yes, let's shake hands before we fight," I reply, letting the sarcasm drip from my words.

The boy laughs. "It's a deal," he agrees and then regresses into the darkness of the alleyway, hands in his pockets, whistling softly to himself.

I stand there for a minute, letting the events of the evening sink in. Then, shaking my head, I turn around and head back to Daniel's house.

_~r.~_

"Hey, Walter."

I turn at the sound of my name. "Yes, Laurie?"

"Can you help me move some things down to the basement? We just got a shipment of food supplies and I want to move it before anyone gets a good eyeful," she says, pursing her lip and folding her arms across her chest.

I raise an eyebrow. "Well, Laurie, this is a surprise. Why not just ask Daniel to help you?" I reply.

Laurie rolls her eyes. "_Because, _Walter, Daniel is out running errands and I need a big, strong man to help me." She pauses and then appraises me skeptically. "'Course I guess I'll just have to settle for you."

"Oh, kind of like Daniel settled for you?"

Laurie's eyes flash fire. "Listen, you little worm, you can either help me or I'll shove this-" She points to her obnoxious black boots- "up your ass."

"Is that the line Daniel used to get you in bed?" I inquire innocently. I don't know why I feel like antagonizing her. Maybe it's because Daniel's not around and I've had to act polite with her when he is.

She just glares at me and sweeps out of the room. I watch her go, then sigh, knowing Daniel will give me grief for it later if I don't help her. When I find her, she is out on the front stoop, lifting a large box up from the ground. I raise an eyebrow; there are boxes stacked all over, nearly filling the entire stoop.

Laurie glowers at me from over the box in her arms. "What are _you _doing here?" she growls and turns to head inside.

Quickly I pick up two boxes and follow her. "In case you've forgotten, Laurel, you asked me to help you," I reply as we descend into the basement. I am unable to help looking around in awe for a second. Though I've been down here before, I can't shake the nostalgia that threatens to overwhelm me at the sight of all the old machinery, the gadgets, everything saturated with the vigilante lifestyle. Even the owlship, down in the center of the basement, poised faithfully over old, unused tracks. Everything is so familiar, like home.

"Oh, so now I'm 'Laurel'?" Laurie mutters, then sets the box down in a corner and motions for me to do the same.

"Well, what would you prefer?" I inquire. "I mean, that is your name, isn't it? Or is that just the name you use down on the corner?"

"You son-of-a-bitch, if you didn't mean so much to Daniel I would beat the shit out of your scrawny ass!" Laurie screams, marching up close to me until we are barely a foot apart. I cross my arms and stare at her, unimpressed. "Ugh!" she shouts in exasperation, throwing her arms up in the air and turning away from me.

She is quiet for a moment before she turns back to glare at me. "What is it with you? Huh? Why do you have to bitch and moan and complain about me all the damn time?" she demands.

"It's everything," I reply. "The way you dress, the way you flaunt your body like it's some kind of trophy. Everything," I answer and then stop, surprised that I've answered so honestly.

"Is that it?" she replies sarcastically and then sighs. "Walter, dammit, how is that any of your business?"

"It's my business when you're married to my partner, and yet you still don't have the dignity to cover yourself up with decent clothes!" I growl, getting angry now. I can feel the heat boiling under my skin.

"Well it's not like I'm cheating on him! I love him, goddammit! And whether I dress decently is of _my _concern, and not yours," she snaps, then stomps back upstairs. I wait a few moments, counting to ten before following so that I know my blood pressure is under control.

She is already on the front porch, grabbing two more boxes. I grab three as she shoves past me and follow. When she has set her load down, she raises her eyebrows at me and smiles sardonically. "What, are you trying to show me up now, huh?"

I set down my boxes and then face her. "What are you talking about?" I demand. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

To my surprise, Laurie gasps and steps back, her eyes flashing wide with pain. Before I can say anything, she turns on her heel and hurries up the stairs. I think back over my words, wondering what could have possibly set her off, but nothing fits. I wait for a few moments, figuring I'll just stay out of her way and let her bring the rest of the boxes down. But it soon becomes clear that she isn't coming down.

Inwardly, I groan. If Daniel finds out I upset his precious whore, he will not be pleased. I know I should go find her, but I just don't want to. If she wants to be sensitive that's her problem. It shouldn't be mine. _But it is, _I think to myself and so, reluctantly, I head upstairs.

When I find her, she is in the living room near the couch. She has collapsed there with three more boxes, leaning over them and crying. I draw back, instantly nervous and confused. Why is she crying? What could I have said to produce _tears? _

I'm about ready to turn right back around and flee, but she looks up and sees me. Her eyes are watery and red and puffy with tears, but they still manage to flash fire at me as she snaps, "What? What are _you _doing here?"

I'm caught. Rorschach is shouting at me to leave. Some deeper instinct is telling me that it's my responsibility to go to her. Irrationally, I think of Cadence. I would go to her if it were Cadence. It would still be incredibly awkward, but I would go to her. It would be the right thing then. And it's the right thing now.

_Dammit! _I curse in my head. _Dammit, dammit, dammit! _Then I hesitantly approach Laurie, who has turned away from me and continued her sobbing. I try not to curl my lip in disgust; what is she playing at anyway?

"Laurel?" I say her name tentatively, my voice straining to keep out just how much I don't want to be here. She doesn't look up or respond in any way. I clench my teeth. Couldn't she just cooperate for one damn minute? This was already awkward enough. "Laurel-"

"I heard you!" she snaps, her head still buried in her arms. Then she lifts it to glare at me. "And don't call me that!" I'm about to snap back a stinging retort and march out, but before I can, Laurie looks down and mutters, "My mother called me that."

I stop, caught off guard. I don't miss the past tense. Still, I play dumb. "Wouldn't your mother have to call you that? It is your name," I point out, curling my lip and wishing this moment had never happened.

"No. My mom called me Laurie like everyone else. She only ever called me Laurel when it was really special, you know? Like when she was particularly proud of me or something," Laurie explains, her voice growing soft. Then she turns back to me and her blue eyes have grown hard again. "My mom is dead, do you know that?" she demands, her voice just as hard as her eyes.

"No," I reply, though in truth I had already guessed she was. It doesn't really surprise me, either. Her mother had been an alcoholic who'd sat rotting in a rest home after her "glory days" were over with. She had been digging an early grave from the beginning.

"Y'know, you can say what you want about my mother- and I'm sure _you _already do," Laurie continues, glaring at me. "But she was a great vigilante. And she stood up for this country. And no one can fuckin tell me otherwise."

I am silent, mostly to keep myself from saying anything rude about her mother. Laurie takes my silence as a signal to go on. "Do you know _how_ she died?" she demands, and a cynical smile spreads across her face. It is cold and hard and without any humor or light. I've never seen Laurie like this, so close to the edge.

I shake my head slowly. "No..."

"It shouldn't be any surprise to you, now that you know all the shit this government's been doing," she begins. Then the smile wavers and disappears from her face, leaving behind a desperate, destraught expression. Tears come flowing down her cheeks again. "All she wanted was a little peace and quiet," she whimpers. I watch her crumble, listening to her words and feeling a fire growing in my chest, deep and red hot.

"See, my mother...after the bombs went off, you know, here and all around the world, she started living at this house with me and Dan. It was nice. We got along so much better than we ever had before," Laurie says, her voice breaking on the last sentence. "Then Mom moved away. Just to a little apartment complex a few blocks down. It was okay for a while...but then she started complaining about the noise her neighbors were making..." The sobs grew harder here, more pronounced, and I had to strain to make out her next words. "She...she was going to go over there...tell them to stop making such a commotion...when she got there, a fight escalated...the neighbors c-called the cops."

I stiffen. Already I can see where this story is going, where it will end. In my mind I can hear Cadence telling me about police brutality, about its disturbing increase. The fire grows in my chest.

"When the cops got there, they immediately took the side of the neighbors because my mother was a known Minuteman," Laurie continues, quieting. Her sobs have fallen away, her voice grown still. Her eyes stare off blankly, as though seeing things I can only guess at. "My mother got angry and tried to leave. One of the cops grabbed her and told her she was under arrest. Then the suits came." Laurie's eyes gleam with fire; I am reminded of the night I found her and Daniel. In my mind I can see her pointing the gun at the suit, ready to kill him, insisting to Daniel that she must...

When she speaks next, her voice is calm, not betraying the rage brewing in her eyes. "They shot her," she says, her voice flat. "She tried to pull away and they shot her." She lowers her head, glaring down at the box as though it's the one that shot her mother.

Though I didn't expect to, I feel a sharp stab of remourse. Not for Laurie's mother, but for Laurie. "I'm sorry," I murmur quietly.

Laurie shakes her head slightly. "Not as sorry as I am," she replies and then looks at me. "You know, I was at her house the day it happened. It was the last time I saw her alive," she says and her voice breaks just slightly. "And do you know what I said to her?" I shake my head, indicating Laurie to continue. "What I said to her before I slammed the door in her face was 'I don't have to prove anything to you'."

I grow still. The exact words I said to Laurie down in the basement a few minutes ago. Now it makes sense.

"It was the first time we had fought since the Great Event of '85, and now, looking back, it just seems so stupid to me," Laurie mumbles, wiping tears and mascara from her face.

"What did you fight about?" I inquire.

"My mom was mad because Dan and I were thinking about retiring."

I grow still, rigid. "When was this?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level. The fire has just roared to life again in my chest.

"Almost a year ago now." I am silent for a long time, processing her words. Laurie notices the change and blinks at me. "What's wrong?" she asks.

"_Are _you going to retire?" I ask in a voice like brittle glass.

Laurie looks at me, and for once her expression is soft. Her eyes are sympathetic and I look away angrily; I don't need her pity and I don't want it. "Dan wasn't sure when to tell you," she replies gently.

I grit my teeth and ball my hands into fists. At that precise moment, the door opens and Daniel himself walks in. "Hey, guys, do you need help with these boxes-" He cuts off when he sees us there, Laurie with her tear-stained cheeks, me with my barely concealed fury. He blinks, his eyes growing wide. "What's wrong?" he asks, immediately fearful, and hurries over to us. "What happened?" he demands, helping Laurie to her feet and glaring at me.

"Nothing happened," I hiss through my teeth, made even more furious by the fact that Daniel immediately thinks I'm the cause.

"Dan, Walter and I were just talking about my mother," Laurie interrupts.

Daniel's expression soften. "Oh," he breathes and then sighs. "Sorry."

"Isn't there something you'd like to tell me, Daniel?" I growl pointedly. Daniel blinks at me, confused. "Nothing you'd like to share with _your partner?" _

Laurie sighs. "I told him we were retiring," she explains.

Daniel's eyes fill with guilt and I watch him fidget nervously. "Oh, yeah, um..."

I let him fumble for words for a moment before interrupting. "You've seen the devastation that Veidt caused and you went along with it. You've seen the cops and the suits killing people simply because they can." Laurie flinches but I continue. "You've seen the government taking over. And you want to _retire?" _My voice is soft but Daniel knows me well enough to hear the loudness of my anger.

He sighs. "Ror...Walter. I'm old. I am 65, and I've gone through hell. I can't keep up with this anymore; I'm _tired," _he tells me.

I stare at him, mouth gaping. "We're _all _tired, Daniel," I growl, astounded at the resignation in his voice. A memory trembles in the back of my mind, trying to break free, but I ignore it. "We've _all _gone through hell. But I'm not retired."

"Rorschach, you are twenty-one goddamn years old!" Daniel retorts.

I nod. "Yeah, I am. And I'm _never _going to retire. I'm never going to _quit," _I sneer.

"I know, not till you're dead," Daniel finishes, rolling his eyes. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, I am not you." His words are hard, his voice like flint. He glares at me, but I can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Daniel _is _tired. _But that's no excuse, _Rorschach snaps and for once, he and I are in total agreement.

After a moment, Daniel sighs. "Look, Rorschach, I'm sorry-"

"Walter," I interrupt.

Daniel blinks at me. "Huh?"

"My name is Walter," I tell him fiercely. "Don't call me Rorschach unless I'm wearing my mask."

He holds up his hands. "Sorry. Walter. Look, I didn't want you to find out this way-"

"Didn't want me to find out at all."

"True," Daniel concedes.

I curl my lip, disgusted. "Coward," I hiss.

Daniel's head snaps up at that, his eyes narrowing. "I am not a coward," he growls. "I kept up this job for years, okay? I've stood up to the government, I've put my _family _on the line, so don't you _dare _call me a coward."

"If you're not a coward then prove it. Don't quit," I challenge him.

But he just sighs, shaking his head. "Look, I've made up my mind. I'm just too old. Besides, there are others willing to fight and to protest, and that's their right."

I look at Daniel, disgusted and betrayed, and in that instant I remember something Cadence told me. I let her words sink into my voice and growl, "Protesting is not just our right. It is our duty."

Then, without another word, I walk out the door and slam it behind me.

I don't know where I'm going. I let my feet guide me while my thoughts swirl dizzingly. On my way to wherever it is my feet are taking me, I think of Cadence. I remember the first time I had seen her, and how I had thought she was young, naive, and much too innocent. I had assumed she hadn't registered the world at all. But now, in the wake of Daniel's betrayal and the bravery of the boy from last night, I realize that I was wrong before. She _does _register the world. But she doesn't become like it, doesn't conform to it. She tries to stop it. She tries to show the world its true face.

I realize what I must do. The path is clear again. No longer will I be distracted by Daniel; I won't let old ghosts from the past get in my way. The government must be stopped. I realize now that Cadence would never quit. Cadence would never retire. I remember one of her favorite quotes, one she's had me use in the notes we write: "It is madness to try to save humanity. And I choose this madness." Well, I choose it, too.

Cadence is my partner now. And I must stand beside her.

_Manhattan, _I think to myself, feeling relieved at the thought of returning to Lawrence.

_Yes, Walter?_

_Take me home._

And then New York disappears in a flash of blue light.

_Someday the weight of the world will give you the strength to go._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah, finally, I've got the next chapter up. Sorry it was such a long wait. Hope you enjoyed it. Now, I have a request for my fantastic readers. If any of you are artists, I wouldn't mind seeing some artwork for this story. See, I tried to make a picture to go along with the story but it did not work at all and I was just thinking you all must be much more talented than me. 'Course, this is purely a selfish request. I know, a little arrogant, right? Well, I don't mean to be :) Anyway, please review cuz reviews are awesome.


	20. Twenty

NOTE: Thank you to those who are reading/reviewing, and a special thanks to the fabulous people who have agreed to do some artwork for this story. You are awesome! :D

20. When You Need Me

_**Rorschach**_

_Get ready. _

I blink, startled. _Ready for what? _

_You will arrive in Lawrence, Kansas in precisely 1.002 seconds. They will be waiting for you there._

_Wait, who-_

But, before I can finish, the blue light around me has disappeared and I am standing in an alleyway, the one I'd slept in the very first night I was here. Almost a second later, there are people around me, shouting and grabbing. Feeling the adrenaline kick in immediately, I fight back, struggling to free myself.

_It's just like that first night in New York, _I think absently to myself as I kick a man in the stomach.

Behind me, another man grips my arms tightly. "Stop resisting! Stop resisting!" he keeps yelling. I keep resisting.

Then something crashes down on my head and the world regresses into darkness.

_**Rylie**_

I'm working out on the punching bag when Eddie comes flying into the shop, his eyes wide with shock. "Rylie! Rylie!"

I stop, blinking at him. "What's wrong?" I ask, immediately concerned. Nothing ever rattles Eddie.

"Jimmy and Damien were downtown when they saw a bunch of guys attack Walter!"

I glare at him. "Eddie, that's not funny. Don't play me like that," I growl and turn back to the heavy bag.

But Eddie grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face him. "Dammit, Rylie, I'm being serious, okay?" His eyes are wide and earnest, and there is an urgency in his voice that makes my heart skip a beat.

It's a moment before I can find my voice. "Oh my God..." I whisper, laying my hand over my mouth in shock. "Well, where is he now? What happened? Is he alright?"

"I don't know, okay? Jimmy and Damien were running over to help him when these gangbangers come outta nowhere and start beatin' on the other guys. Then they dragged him away. Jim and Damien were gonna go help him but there were just too many to take on on their own, so they called me," Eddie explains quickly.

"We have to go help him," I say immediately, but Eddie grabs my shoulders and holds me back. I glare at him. "Let me go, Eddie, we have to help him!"

"Rylie, calm down-"

"No, don't _fucking_ tell me to calm down, Eddie! Walter could be in serious trouble! He could be hurt, or he could be-" But I cut myself off there. The pain of the thoughts it brings up is too much and suddenly I feel like I can't handle it if anything happened to my Walter. Our fight is long forgotten. All our differences, all our stupid little spats, all gone in this moment of clarity. I just don't know what I'll do if Walter is dead.

"I know," Eddie replies quietly, holding my face gently in his hands. "Don't worry, honey, we're gonna find him. But I want you to stay here."

I gape at him. "_What? _No! I'm not staying here while you three risk your lives-"

"We won't be risking our lives, now _calm down," _Eddie interrupts me.

"Give me one good reason why I should stay here?" I challenge him.

Eddie's eyes grow solemn; I've never seen him look so serious. "Because, Rylie, if anything did happen...I don't think I want you around to see it," he replies quietly. I suck in a sharp breath, unable to help myself. I know what he's saying. If Walter _is _dead, he doesn't want me there to see. He's protecting me. "Now, do you agree?" Eddie inquires, tipping my chin up with his finger.

I look at him, so sure and strong, and I know he'll do everything he can to find Walter. Because he knows without saying he knows how much Walter means to me. I find myself nodding in agreement, partly because I trust Eddie so explicitely, and partly because I'm not sure I could handle seeing Walter so still, so lifeless...

I close my eyes and will the image away. I can't think like that. It won't help anything anyway.

Eddie smiles at me slightly without humor. "Kay. I'll be back soon," he promises and kisses my forehead gently. I'm too distraught to swoon like I usually would.

_**Rorschach**_

"Hey. Is he alive?"

"Yes! What the fuck you think he's breathin' for?"

"Well, shit, man, I was just askin'!"

"Will you guys cool it? I've had enough of your arguing."

"He started it!"

"Oh, yeah, that's _real _mature. Why don't you just-"

"Shut up, guys, I think he's awake!"

Voices float around me, above me, spinning dizzily in my already dizzy head. I'm unwilling to open my eyes but I know I have to eventually. My head throbs with each heartbeat, the blood feeling like fire in my right temple.

Slowly, unwillingly, I open my eyes. Through blurred vision, I see faces above me, peering down with wide, curious eyes. Three of them, to match the three voices from before.

"Jeez, do you really think he's alive?" the one in the middle asks quietly, staring at me as though I'm a zombie.

The one on the left gives him a look. "Shit, man, why you think his eyes are open? You fuckin' stupid-"

"Hey, shut it, guys," the one on the right snaps in a voice that rings unmistakably with authority. He glares at the two of them and then looks down at me. "Hey, man. How you feelin'?" he asks in a gentler voice.

I blink at him. What a stupid question. I don't answer it. "Who are you?" I ask and grimace at the weak, raspy quality of my voice.

The man smiles wryly. "I'm a friend, don't worry," he replies and then turns to the other two. "Go get him some water," he orders. The two rush off immediately. Turning back to me, he smiles again. "My name's Rob."

My vision is clearing; already I feel a little steadier. When I try to sit up, though, my head starts spinning again and the only reason I don't fall back down is because Rob reaches over and props me up with his hands.

"Hey, man. You should take it easy. That was a nasty hit you took," he tells me, his tone concerned.

I look at him, trying to remember. "What happened?" I inquire.

At that moment, the two others return with a bottle of water and hand it to Rob. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. "Think you can manage?" he asks skeptically.

I snort, although my head pounds with the effort. "I can manage," I snap and grab the bottle. The water graces my mouth like a cascade of sweetness; I am parched and this water, though room temperature, tastes like the best water in existance.

"Suits jumped you in an alley, man. They looked like they were gonna kill you," Rob explains, giving me a worried glance. Then he leans toward me and lowers his voice. "Tell me, man. What would they want with you?"

I pause in my drinking and lower the bottle, watching him. "I'm a truther," I confess. No need to tell him my true identity of course.

"Ah," he says sagely, nodding. "Coulda figured, I guess. I'm a truther, too," he says with a grin, holding out his arm. On his wrist, right above a large vein popping thickly out of his skin, is a tiny, black inkblot.

"Yeah, yeah! Us, too!" one of the other men interrupts enthusiastically, rolling the sleeve of his shirt up to expose a tiny inkblot near his shoulder. His companion nods, rolling his eyes at the other man and showing me his palm- in the center is another identical inkblot.

"Good," I murmur quietly, feeling a wave of appreciation. "Nice to meet others," I continue, and that's when I remember exactly where I am and exactly why I'm here. _Cadence, _I think and my heart starts pounding faster in my chest. Quickly, I try to scramble to my feet.

"Whoa, whoa, man, where you goin'?" Rob asks as my legs tremble and I sink back to the floor. The pain in my head is excrutiating yet again.

"I have to leave. I have to meet someone," I insist, holding my head with one hand and pushing myself up from the floor with the other. I finally succeed in getting to my feet but only because Rob and the other two help me.

Rob frowns at me. "You can't go anywhere, man. You just almost had the brains beaten outta yer skull. You're not fit enough to go anywhere."

I glare back at him. "I _am _fit, and I have to go. You can't stop me," I growl and start to leave. I only get a few steps away before the spinning in my head becomes unbearable and my vision blurs. Against my will, my legs turn to jelly under me and I collapse once more to the floor.

"Man, I don't have to stop you. You're a hazard to yourself," Rob jokes, kneeling next to me.

The room continues to spin around me. Rob and the others blur. The rest of my body is quickly melting into jelly, too. Soon, I'm in the darkness again.

_**Rylie**_

It's almost ten o'clock and Eddie still hasn't called. I'm sitting by my window, staring out at the rain as it washes away the last remnants of the snow. My head is spinning, throbbing from all of the exhausting, terrifying thoughts it's been entertaining all day.

I'm about ready to throw on a jacket and head out to help my friends search when my cell phone rings. My heart leaps into my throat and I quickly flip it open. "Eddie? Any news?" I ask breathlessly, my chest blazing with hope.

"No. Nothing," Eddie replies dismally. My heart drops a thousand degrees into the dark pit it's been sitting in all day. "But we're gonna keep searching," Eddie continues; he tries to make his exhausted voice cheerful, but I'm not fooled.

"No, Eddie, don't. You guys should go home, you'll get soaked," I tell him half-heartedly, suddenly exhausted, too.

"Eh, we're already soaked. Won't make any difference," he replies. "We'll find him, Rylie. I promise," he murmurs, his voice softer but determined.

I can't help smiling just a little. "Thanks, Eddie. You're the best," I tell him, though my voice comes out as more of a choked whisper than anything else.

"Yeah, I know," Eddie replies, but the smile I can imagine on his face doesn't reach his voice. He sighs. "I'm gonna go. If we find anything, I'll call," he says.

"Okay. Call anytime," I reply. I won't be sleeping tonight anyway. "See ya, Eddie."

"Yeah. See ya."

With a click, the other line disconnects. After a moment, I flip my phone shut and set it down on my writing desk. Then I turn back to the window and stare out at the rain.

_**Rorschach**_

When I wake up again, Rob and the others are gone and the pain in my head has smoldered down to a dull ache. Sitting next to me and my nest of blankets is a bottle of water and a note. Curiously, I pick it up to read.

_Went out to fight for our rights, haha. Back later tonight. There's food downstairs in the cupboards, help yourself. Drink lots of water. _

_~ Rob_

Following his advice, I twist off the bottle cap and drink down the water. It tastes almost as good as the first time I woke up. Once I've had my fill, I attempt to stand up. My legs are a little shaky at first as I get to my feet, but otherwise I feel much better. Steadying myself, I take my first step. Then another. And another. And when it's apparent I won't be falling down anytime soon, I start heading toward a door to the right of me. There's a window next to it, and I see it will take me outside. From there I'll get my bearings and be on my way to Cadence.

But something stops me. Looking back at my makeshift bed, I remember the kindness of my rescuers. If it hadn't been for them, I could be dead right now. Sighing, I reach into my pocket, hoping that the small, broken pencil I keep with me is still there. Quickly, I scribble out a few words on the note Rob left for me, thanking him for his help, and then set it right where he left it.

When I step outside, I know immediately where I am. I'm downtown, a few blocks from my warehouse. It won't take me long to get to Cadence's house. My heart starts to beat a little faster at the thought, and I smile just a little, imagining her reaction to my unexpected return.

_I'll be lucky if she doesn't hit me, _I think and almost laugh to myself on my way down the street.

_**Rylie**_

"Are you sure you didn't find anything?" I ask for what must be the hundredth time. I'm well aware of the desperate edge to my voice but I don't care to disguise it.

"Yeah, honey. I'm sorry," Eddie replies. He sounds exhausted and I feel bad, but I need to know what happened to my Walter. I'm on the edge of tears and Eddie must know it because he goes on to say, "But, I mean, we haven't been out since midnight, so maybe we missed him."

That really makes me feel bad. He, Jimmy, and Damien had searched for Walter till midnight last night when they'd had to go home for some sleep. This morning, at Eddie's urgings, they had gone out again but found nothing.

But it doesn't quite make me feel bad enough to ask them to stop searching. I can quickly feel myself growing hysterical, the panic blooming in my chest like a burning flower. "If you haven't found him by now, I don't think you'll find him at all," I reply shakily. "You know what, I'm gonna come and help you guys."

"No! Rylie, no-"

"Eddie, you guys have been searching for hours! I should be helping." Not to mention the fact that it's getting to the point where if I don't do something constructive soon I think I'll lose my mind.

"Rylie, just give us a little longer, I promise, we'll do everything we can. Relax, just stay at your house. I'll call you soon with an update," Eddie assures me in a soothing voice. "Talk to you later."

I bite my lip. "Kay..." I agree reluctantly and then hang up.

Now that I have nothing to do once more, I start pacing again. I'm in the garage, away from my parents; I don't particularly want them involved in this. They would call the police and I'm still thinking straight enough to know the police would be the opposite of helpful.

Without anyone to talk to, I start thinking and thinking is bad. All I can think about are the worst possibilities, the ones colored by grief. Even considering the possibility that Walter might not come back to me fills me with an emptiness I've never experienced before.

"Augh, _shit, _what am I gonna do?" I groan to myself, pressing my fists to my forehead to trying forcing the thoughts from my brain. "I don't know what I'm gonna do," I answer myself.

"Talking to yourself is unhealthy," an achingly familiar voice comments from the side door.

I gasp, my head flying up, whipping around to see Walter standing just inside the garage. He lifts one eyebrow and smiles just slightly at me. For a moment, I just stand like there like an idiot, my mouth hanging open and my eyes stretched wide. There is a lump in my throat that I just can't swallow. My heart feels as though it will explode from relief.

And then it hits me and I break into a huge, sunny smile. "_Walter!" _I exclaim and rush over to him to hug him. I'm about to- I'm only inches from him with my arms open wide, almost wrapped around him- when I think better of it and pause right where I am.

Walter looks down at me, looking both puzzled and amused. "What are you doing?" he inquires.

"Well, I _was _gonna hug you but then I thought you might break my arms or something so I decided not to," I confess, taking a step away from him, trying to ignore my blush. And then I draw back, letting out a little gasp. "Oh my God, what happened to your head?" I ask, reaching up against my better judgement to touch the blood-soaked bandage on his forehead.

He leans away a little, wincing but keeping a wary eye on me. Self-consciously I step away again, giving him some room. "I had a little run-in with some friends," he replies sarcastically.

I narrow my eyes. "Cops?"

"Suits," Walter corrects me.

I blink, my eyes widening. "_Suits?" _A pang of alarm runs through me. "Jesus, they must really have it out for you. You don't think they know who you are, do you?"

Walter shakes his head, though in his blue eyes I can tell he's not totally sure. "No. Laurie and Daniel said they were just alerted to Manhattan's signature," he tells me.

I stiffen a little. "So. You saw them," I comment. I can't help feeling a spark of irritation, remembering when he left.

Walter watches me but I can't read the expression on his face. "Yes. I saw them," he replies and then he sighs. "And while I was there, I met some truthers..."

I gasp, brightening instantly. "You did?"

He nods. "Yeah. And they got me thinking of you," he admits. I feel an unexpected wave of warmth flush through me and I look down at the floor, realizing that my face is burning. "Cadence, the whole time I was in New York, I couldn't stop thinking about how I should be here with you, helping you train, helping you spread the word... I wasn't a very good partner, and I'm sorry. From now on I'll be here when you need me."

Every word that comes from his mouth sounds forced, as though he doesn't exactly want to say them but knows he has to. And I know how much it must be costing him to admit to something so personal. So I look up and smile at him slightly, encouragingly. "Thank you," I murmur.

"Yeah," he says, nodding and looking uncomfortable.

We fall silent for a moment until, sensing he wants me to change the subject, I break the silence. "So what happened exactly? Eddie told me that you were attacked by the suits and then these gangbangers came out of nowhere and dragged you away," I say, blinking curious, worried eyes at him.

"Well, I don't really remember exactly what happened. One of the suits hit me over the head and I blacked out. But the gang members are friends," Walter tells me, smiling slightly. "They helped me. They took care of my injury."

I blink, surprised. "Wow...so they were nice?"

Walter's lip twitch into an ironic smirk. "Yes. Shocked?"

"Well...yeah. I guess not so much about the gang members than about you," I admit.

He blinks. "Me?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess I just didn't expect you to be so...accepting of criminals," I elaborate.

Walter shrugs, looking down at his feet. "Not all criminals are bad," he mumbles.

I gape at him. "Are you _serious?" _

He looks up sharply. "What?" he snaps defensively. "You don't agree? Because technically, vigilantes are criminals."

I shake my head quickly. "No, no, it's just..._you. _I can't believe that _you _would say that."

"You act like you know me so well," he grumbles, grimacing.

"Well, you _have_ been my hero since I was nine years old," I blurt out before I can think. Immediately, a hot blush colors my cheeks and Walter glances down at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Hurm. I was?" he asks slyly, sensing my embarrassment.

I grimace and roll my eyes. "Yeah, you _were. _But now that I _know _you..." He snorts and I laugh, shrugging. "Eh, I guess you're not _that _bad. Sometimes you're a bit scary."

Walter smirks just slightly. "I am?"

I raise an eyebrow in response. "You ever seen yourself when you're angry?" I counter.

"Well, I _do _make a habit of making angry faces at myself in a mirror..."

I laugh and punch him lightly in the arm. "Don't be such a smartass," I mutter and then smile at him.

He cocks his head, suddenly curious. He starts to ask me a question, but it's instantly apparent to me that he doesn't know how to word it because it makes him uncomfortable. "Why _do _you, you know, like me? I mean, you know, why are you, you know, my friend?"

"You know?" I quip.

He grimaces, glaring at me. "Don't be smart."

"Would you like me to be stupid?"

"You already are. Now answer."

"Alright, alright. Pushy," I retort and then peer at him curiously for a moment. "The majority of people have conformed to someone else's demands at least once in their lives. It's refreshing to meet someone who never did," I finally answer. Though a bunch of different reasons are swirling in my head, I just leave it at that.

He blinks, silent for a moment, and then nods. "Well...I'm glad that's what you think of me. Compromise isn't really my thing," he says.

"Huh! Tell me about it," I mutter and then shrug. "You know, compromise isn't _always _a bad thing. Although I have to admit I don't really like it either."

"Sure it is. Compromise leads to weak leadership, weak alliances...weakness in general," Walter replies and then grits his teeth. "Compromise is what has turned the people of this country into such sheep."

I nod. "Well, I can't argue with you there," I agree, and then I sigh. Talking with Walter has succeeded in calming me down, which feels so great right now it's almost like I'm made of helium; I needed to decompress. "Man, I'm really glad you're safe. I mean, I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to my brick wall-" I cut myself off immediately, feeling a rush of embarrassment heat my face for what seems like the tenth time.

Walter pulls back a little, blinking in confusion. "Your brick wall?" he repeats.

I shrug, looking sheepish. "Yeah...remember when we first met?"

"Yeah, you ran into me," he replies wryly.

"Uh, heh, yeah...anyway, when I ran into you, it was like running into a brick wall. So, until I learned your name, I just called you 'the Brick Wall'," I explain reluctantly.

Walter's lips twitch, amused. "You give _every _stranger you meet a codename?" he teases.

"No!" I retort, scowling. "Man, now I'm kinda wishing you _hadn't _come back," I continue, though I make sure he knows I'm teasing.

He looks at me, curious again. "You were really worried about me, weren't you?" he murmurs, sounding surprised.

I roll my eyes to hide my shyness. "Well, yeah. Do you know what would happen to me if anything happened to you?"

"You'd probably die from a fall off a cliff because I wouldn't be there to catch you," he replies teasingly.

"Well, at least I know you'll catch me when you _are _there," I mutter and then blink, repeating the words in my mind. Something about them makes me blush, and the silence between us becomes awkward. I wonder randomly if Walter is thinking of my words, too.

He breaks the silence this time. "Well, we should probably get back to work," he says and starts to head outside.

"To work?" I repeat, puzzled.

He turns back to me, looking surprised. "Yes. Training?"

"Oh! Right." Duh.

He raises an eyebrow, looking at me dryly. "So. You still want to be a vigilante, huh?"

I snort. "No shit." Walter narrows his eyes. I narrow them back.

"Stubborn."

"Hypocrite."

And so the two of us head out to the shop to continue where we left off.

_**Adrian**_

"Now, explain this to me again," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "Ten of you ambushed him. You tased him. You had him on the ground, apprehended...and he _got away?" _No time to sugarcoat things. I am furious. I have been waiting for almost a week for a report from the ghosts I sent out to investigate Jon's signature. They have finally come to me, returning from the hospital, and the only thing they can tell me is that they attacked a man and he escaped. Inexscusable.

"Yes, Mr. Veidt, and we're sorry, but...that's what I'm trying to tell you," the ghost tells me. "This guy, he fought like some sorta ninja or something! I mean, for a while there until we tased him, he was holding his own."

I narrow my eyes and fix the ghost with a glare. "He took on all ten of you?" I inquire. There is something in my chest, a kind of fluttery panic, threatening to choke me. Impatiently, I try to ignore it.

The ghost nods. "Yeah, he...he fought like a man possessed. I mean, you know, until Nite Owl came," he admits.

My pulse starts to race. The panic in my chest returns. "Nite Owl?" I repeat flatly.

The ghost looks at me nervously. "Yes. He came just after the man got up, after we tased him. Nite Owl and the Satin Shadow. They helped him."

Vigilantes helped the man Jon sent here. _Nite Owl _helped the man. The panic grows in my chest. My head has started to hurt. I yearn for one of my pills. "Tell me. What did this man look like? Did you get a clear look at him?"

"Uh, he was short and stocky, a real bulldog, violent, unpredictable type. He had red hair. Like, bright red hair."

My heart nearly stops in my chest. "Did you get a good look at his face?" I ask, aware of how weak and raspy my voice sounds but unable to help it.

"Uh, no, not really. He was all over the place, Mr. Veidt. Once we started fighting, it was chaos in there," the ghost admits and then peers at me. "Why? You have an idea who it might be?" he asks tentatively.

I pause for a moment, caught up in the wild thoughts pervading my mind. Then I shake my head quickly, trying to contain my anxiety. "No, no, of course not, but I need to know what he looked like so we'll have a better chance at finding him," I reply impatiently.

"Right. Sorry," the ghost murmurs, looking down at the floor nervously. My fingers are itching to reach into my desk drawer and grab my pills. I want him out of my office. I want my solitude, I want my pills...

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I close my eyes and try to rid my mind of the images in it. "I think I've got all I need for now, thank you. You can go," I tell him as calmly as I can.

"Yes, Mr. Veidt," the ghost says quietly and shuffles out of the room.

Once he has shut the door behind him, I quickly reach into my desk and pull out the pill bottle. I need something to comfort me. I need something to take my mind off of my thoughts. I dry swallow two, wishing I could take more but knowing more than two would be deadly. Actually, taking two is even a bit of a risk but right now I just don't care.

Immediately I feel a numbness spread through my body, like injecting Novocaine into my veins. I close my eyes and sink into it gratefully, waiting for it to take hold in my brain. A few seconds later, I am so tired...need to make it to my bed...

Opening my eyes again proves to be a bit difficult, and for a moment I wonder if I've just killed myself. But, no, I've taken two pills before. Just makes me tired...so tired...

When I finally succeed in peeling my eyes open, I cross the floor numbly in a haze of sleepy bliss and open the door to the other room, where I keep my bed. My feet drag across the linoleum, the sudden numbness weighing me down, so that when I finally collapse into my bed, it feels as though the sheets close in around me, pushing me down, down into the mattress, where I continue to sink, losing control of my consciousness...

Of course, losing control of my consciousness means that I can't contain my thoughts. Not any of them. And the last thing I think before falling into the grace of the dark numbness is, _No. It can't be him._

_**Rylie**_

"So, you owe me, Rylie. Big time," Eddie says, and I can tell he's only half-joking. I can't blame him. I'm the one who had him out on the streets for hours searching for Walter.

"Yeah, okay, I owe you," I agree. It is close to ten o'clock and we're still talking on the phone. I had called him shortly after Walter had shown up at my house to tell him everything was alright. Walter and I had trained for a while, and then after he'd left I'd called Eddie again at around eight. We'd been talking ever since.

"And Jimmy and Damien," Eddie adds. "Jimmy says he wants those new shoes he's been bugging us all about. You know, the ones from Buckle."

I laugh. "Yeah, okay, it's a deal."

Eddie sighs. "Well, I'm really glad your Walter is alright. You looked like you were about to lose your mind there for a while," he says.

"Yeah, I thought I was going to," I admit. "I guess I didn't know how important Walter's become to me until today," I continue before thinking.

"So you _are _in love with him."

"No, Eddie, I am _not _in love with him, but he _is _my friend and I don't know how I'd handle it if anything happened to him," I retort.

"What if something happened to me?"

I stop, blindsided by the question. My chest tightens at the thought. Eddie's been in my life since we were infants. I can't imagine being without him. It would be like losing a part of myself. "Eddie, don't ask me things like that," I murmur quietly.

Something in my voice keeps him from pursuing an answer. "Okay, okay. Hey, you know, we have school tomorrow. We should probably get to bed," he suggests.

"Alright. See you tomorrow," I reply.

"See ya, lovey. Kiss, kiss."

I laugh and make kissing sounds into the phone. "That was just for you, my pet," I giggle.

"Oh, why thank you, _daarling, _I swoon!" Eddie replies. "No, but seriously. Later, babe."

"Later, Eddie."

After he hangs up, I sigh happily. What had started out as a dark, hopeless day had ended in joyful relief. Walter returned and promised to help me. And most importantly, he didn't die.

Lying back into my pillows, I curl up in my sheets and close my eyes. I'll sleep well tonight.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whew. Sorry 'bout the long chapters, but I've just recently realized that this is going to be a long story (like, "might-have-to-be-broken-up-into-separate-stories" long) and, as a result, the chapters might have to be a little extended. So, if you'll just stick with me the rest of the ride, all of your questions will be answered and, hopefully, you'll like the ultimate ending (I know I do, but I'm a little biased and your opinions matter to me more than my own). Anyway, thank you for reading, please review!


	21. Twenty One

NOTE: This chapter requires the song "Percussion Gun" by White Rabbits for the protest scene (you'll know what I'm talking about when you get there ;) ).

21. Back in the Swing of Things (Of Course Our Usual is a Little Unusual, Wouldn't You Say?)

_**Rylie**_

Now that Walter is back, things have sped up incredibly. I never realized how nice it was to have a professional vigilante to train me until I was without one. And so, Jimmy, Damien, Eddie and I all progress with Walter's help much more than without him.

Of course, it is incredibly hard work, too. Suddenly, "go outside and play" took on a whole new meaning.

The first day back on our regular training schedule, I meet Walter at Wendy's so that we can write out notes and, afterward, he can hitch a ride with me and my mom to our house. Walking up to the fast food restaurant, I spot him from the outside through the window. He is bent over the table, looking as though he is deep in writing, oblivious to everyone else and I smile, filled with a sudden warmth. After spending almost two days thinking he was dead, I've obtained a whole new appreciation for his life.

Not only that, but a fierce sense of pride settles over me upon seeing him. _He is _my _partner, _I think smugly, unable to erase the grin from my face, even when I walk inside and head over to his table.

He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. "Why are you smiling?" he asks after a moment.

I blink, startled. "No reason," I lie quickly and sit down across from him. "So. How's the head?" I ask him, examining the wound on his temple.

He shrugs, returning to the notes he's writing. "It's okay. Doesn't hurt as much," he answers nonchalantly.

I pause for a minute, pursing my lips and wondering if I should tell him about the recent news I've heard. "So...you heard about the latest government scandal?" I inquire after a moment.

Walter looks up at me, narrowing his eyes. "What?" he growls.

"Hm, well, _apparently, _the government is sending in undercover agents to infiltrate gangs expose truthers, then get them thrown in jail so that they have an excuse to chip them," I tell him slowly.

He blinks. "_Chip _them?" he repeats flatly, his eyes dark and dangerous-looking. Not for the first time, I'm glad he's my partner and not my enemy.

"Yes. I mean, they've been chipping things- and some people- for a while now, so it normally wouldn't be a big deal except _these _chips are...new. Once they're in a person's body, they work with the electrical activity in the brain to read minds. Of course, they already have mind reading technology, which makes us thought criminals...but the external mind reading technology isn't as effective as the internal mind reading chips," I explain.

"Wait, wait, wait," Walter interrupts, holding up his hands. "What do you mean they've been chipping things for a while now?"

"Well, they put chips in barcodes to keep tabs on what people buy. Like, say someone was buying things to make a bomb. They could look back and flag that person according to their purchases," I say and then roll my eyes. "Course, they don't ever _do _that. They don't use it to catch actualterrorists, they use it to corner truthers."

"They chip everything?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if they did, but I don't have all the details. But, yeah, so, anyway, they're trying to chip truthers to read their minds. Yeah. Happy stuff," I finish, raising my eyebrows and nodding.

Walter snorts. "Yeah. _Real _happy. Next thing you know, they'll have the technology to _control _minds," he mutters.

"Oh, they do," I reply in a cavalier tone.

Walter stops, looking up at me. "_What?" _

I nod. "Yep. They don't do it through chips, though, they do it through electronic harrassment."

"What is that?"

"Well, I don't know all of the mechanics behind it, but, basically what they do is send out a focused frequency to put voices into their mark's head, and just mess with them to make them seem crazy," I explain. "And the thing is, even if the mark knew what was happening to them, people are so disinformed these days that they would think they were insane anyway if they said anything. It's a double-edged sword."

Walter's lips curl in disbelief and disgust. "They have got their hooks in so deep," he mutters.

"Yeah, they do," I admit. "But it doesn't matter." He looks up, confused, and I shrug. "If they chip me, they chip me, but they will _never _control me," I elaborate.

Walter stares at me for a moment and then chuckles. I smile, warmed by the sound.

When we get to my house I call Eddie, and by the time my mom has dinner ready he, Jimmy, and Damien have arrived. After a quick meal, we all head out to the shop to do some boxing. I'm proud to say that I'm the farthest along so far besides Jimmy, but that's just because he's boxed before.

"Man, Rylie, soon as you're ready, you and I should spar," he says that night. "I'm a southpaw, so it should be interesting," he adds, winking at me.

I stare at him blankly. "O-kay...I have no idea what that is," I reply and immediately look to Walter questioningly.

"Southpaw is a boxer with a dominant left hand," he murmurs quietly, without looking up from wrapping his hands.

"Oh." I look down at my fists. "So what do they call right-handed boxers?" I inquire curiously.

"Orthodox," he answers immediately.

I make a face. "_Orthodox?" _I repeat and he finally looks up, raising an eyebrow. "That's a boring name. I don't want to be _orthodox," _I complain.

Walter shrugs. "So become left-handed," he replies and then smirks at me.

I scowl at him. "Well, what are _you?" _I demand.

"I am whatever I want to be," he replies steadily and starts going after the heavy bag.

"What, so you're, like, ambidextrous?" Walter dips his head once, never breaking concentration, glaring at the punching bag like it's an actual enemy. I grimace. "I worry about the way you train sometimes," I mutter.

"Well, would you prefer I baby you so you're unprepared when you head out on patrol your first time?" he counters.

I glare at him. "No! I'm just saying you're a bit..." I trail off, searching for the right word, but then finding myself distracted by the way he moves, so sure and confident, the muscles in his arms rolling with each punch... "Intense," I finally finish, looking away and shaking my head. "And besides, we're not arguing about my training, we're arguing about my title."

"Well, what would you prefer to be called?" Walter asks impatiently.

I think about it for a moment. "Not orthodox," I finally decide and he gives me a "oh-really?" look. "Well, I don't know! Something cool like southpaw!"

"What about northpaw?" Damien suggests.

"Oh, how original," Eddie mutters, rolling his eyes.

I nod frantically, ignoring him. "That's tight! Northpaw! I love it!" I reply enthusiastically.

"Northpaw isn't an actual name-"

"Shut up, Walter! Can't I just, for once, have a dream that you don't step all over?" I interrupt.

He rolls his eyes, but I think I can see a hint of a smile on his face. "Whatever, _Northpaw." _

"Whatever, _Brick Wall." _

Of course, since the school year is drawing to a close, the amount of homework on my plate has nearly doubled. And since I'd already had a lot to begin with...

My schedule is in complete disarray, and it's mainly because of my training. And it's irritating because Walter refuses to help me with anything else unless it directly involves training me to be a vigilante.

I think Walter won't help me with my schedule because he's still irritated at me for insisting on training at all. It's his way of saying "I told you so", his form of punishment without verbalizing that it's punishment. Whenever I complain that I hadn't gone to sleep until two or three in the morning, he basically tells me to suck it up. He'll tell me he has fuzzy memories of having a job and going to work practically a zombie because he would work eight to five, sleep for four hours, then head out on patrol. I will protest and tell him he hadn't had homework to deal with. And he'll say: "Well, you should've thought of that _before _training to be a vigilante."

However, as the week progresses, I can see that all my hard work is paying off. And not just as far as my fighting abilities are concerned. I'm growing closer to Walter, too. Or, at least, _I _feel like we're growing closer. I can't speak for him. And I think he's getting used to my friends, too. Well, Jimmy and Damien, at least. Him and Eddie...there's still an undercurrent of tension between them. Even when they joke around. Like, on Friday night, when they both were over late at my house.

We were up in my room, my ipod playing softly in the background, and I was working on finishing an essay for history class. Walter was sitting on my bed and Eddie was sitting next to me, proof-reading the essay over my shoulder as I wrote. Finally, I sat up, flexing my aching fingers and stretching.

"Ugh, dammit, I _hate _homework!" I complain, groaning.

"I know," Eddie replies sympathetically, massaging my shoulders.

"Well, when work feels overwhelming, just remember that one day you're going to die," Walter says, shrugging. Eddie and I swing around to look at him in disbelief. He looks back up at us and raises an eyebrow questioningly. "What?"

"...Wow, you are just so damn cheerful it's sickening!" Eddie exclaims sarcastically.

Walter narrows his eyes. "You don't keep me around to be cheerful," he responds sternly.

Eddie snorts. "If it were up to me, you wouldn't be around at all," he mutters.

I gape at him. "Eddie!" I exclaim, punching his shoulder. "Behave!"

He rolls his eyes, rubbing his arm, but nods. "Yeah, okay," he agrees reluctantly, but not before throwing Walter one more glare.

Little confrontations like that have been happening a lot lately, and I'm kind of getting sick of it but I don't really know how to stop it, mainly just because I have no idea why the antagonism is there at all. It's so hard to pick out the true reason behind it because it's always hidden behind veiled threats and false friendliness.

But that's not my only problem, and it's certainly not my biggest. Lately, more and more so-called "gang terrorists" have been found and arrested, not just in Lawrence but around the country. The news reports that the "terrorists" are violent and unpredictable, spouting "un-American, terroristic" hatred toward the government. And what this really means is that the government is capturing more and more truthers and silencing them.

It's horrible and unfair... "...And there's got to be something we can do about it!" I fume one rainy April evening, pacing back and forth in the small family room. Walter has already left and it's just me, Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien.

Eddie, sitting at the computer, swivels around in his chair to face me. "Got anything in mind?" he inquires, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no, but..."

"Okay, guys, c'mon. Even if we _did _have a plan, we're just kids! What difference could _we _make?" Jimmy interrupts.

"Jimmy-jam, we're almost legally adults. And besides, you don't need to be old to change the world," Eddie replies.

Jimmy rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine. Got any plans, Mr. Know-it-all?"

Eddie pauses. "...Well, no. But that doesn't mean we can't come up with something," he responds defensively.

And that's when I think of something, almost as though it was sent to me. "Wait, guys!" I exclaim. "I think I have an idea!"

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Are you sure it's not gonna end up like last Christmas when you-"

"Eh, no, no, no, no, let's not talk about that," I interrupt quickly, glaring furiously at him. He just grins his two-dimpled grin at me mischievously and I roll my eyes. "No, I have a legitamite idea and I think it will actually work. But we need Walter..."

_~r.~_

"Hello, Cadence," Walter greets me softly, sitting down at my table across from me. I've asked him to meet me and Eddie here at Dunkin Donuts to discuss what I simply left as "important matters".

I break into a huge, sunny grin. "Hey, Walter!" I greet him excitedly. "Thanks for meeting me here."

Walter shrugs. "No problem. What's so important?" he asks and then raises an eyebrow. "I guess it must not be too horrible because you're starting the resemble the Cheshire Cat."

I quickly change my smile into a serious frown and his lips twitch in amusement. "Okay, Eddie should be here in a few minutes and he will want food so I might as well get it now. What do you want?" I inquire, deliberately ignoring his question. I don't really want to tell Walter of our plan until Eddie arrives.

"Oh, I'm fine-"

"No, no, no, no," I interrupt. "You're not gonna pull this crap on me _again. _Now. What do you want?" I repeat. "Donut? Muffin? Bagel? Coffee?" I continue, spouting suggestions like machine gun fire.

Walter cracks a full-blown smile and I have to smile back.

"Hey. Lovebirds," comes a voice from beside us. We both jump, startled, and turn to see Eddie watching us with his eyebrows raised. There is a disapproving gleam in his eye but when he speaks his tone is teasing. "Is this a bad time?"

I roll my eyes at him as Walter sits back in his chair, looking irritated and uncomfortable. "Well, Mr. Come-in-late-and-annoy-the-two-people-who-could-kick-his-ass, it's about time you got here," I reply.

Eddie smiles at me but his expression is a warning. I narrow my eyes, confused and irritated. The irritation grows when Eddie and Walter both glare at each other but don't speak. Before the tense silence can stretch on any longer, I sigh loudly and motion to the front counter. "Kay, well, can you guys tell me what you want so I can buy it and we can get down to business?" I mutter flatly.

"No, no, no. _I'll _get it," Eddie argues and then aims a pointed look at Walter. _"I _have the money."

Walter bristles, drawing himself to full height in his chair. But before he can speak, I am on my feet between them, glaring at Eddie. "No. _I'll _get it. Just tell me what you frickin' want," I growl.

After a few moments, Eddie and Walter both grudgingly relax, deflating visibly. Once they tell me what they want I march up to the front counter. "Goddamn testosterone," I mutter, which is the only way I can explain their territorial attitude.

When I return, Walter and Eddie are both sitting at the table, deliberately facing away from each other and glaring in opposite directions. Rolling my eyes, I slam the food down on the table and sit down between them, folding my arms across my chest and giving them both my stern, "you-both-are-naughty-children" look. Walter looks back at me challengingly but Eddie sighs and forces a smile. I don't smile back.

"Alright. So what is this important business?" Walter inquires after a moment, quietly sipping his coffee.

Taking a deep breath to clear my chest of the remainder of my anger, I launch into my plan. "Okay, you know how the police have been cracking down on truthers, right?" Walter nods so I continue. "Well, we came up with a plan to show the people of this city, and hopefully of this country, that they are trying to silence the truth instead of cutting down on crime."

Walter raises an eyebrow. "Alright. What's your plan?"

"Well, first...can you promise that you'll help us?" I ask hopefully.

Walter stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head. My heart drops for a fraction of a second before he speaks. "Cadence, do you really think I'm going to let you run off with one of your crazy ideas and not be there to bail you out when it fails?" he says, and though his voice is joking his expression is softly serious.

I smile at him, relieved. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I mean, you're just such a straight-up stud it would be _stupid _to do this without you," I reply.

Walter chuckles and nods, but before he can say anything Eddie interrupts. "Okay, okay. Can we get back to business?" he asks. I marvel at how he can sound so impatient and yet keep his tone so cordial.

"Keep your pants on, Edward," I mutter, rolling my eyes and returning to my plan. "We want to protest outside of the police station to lure the cops out," I tell Walter.

"A _peaceful _one," Eddie clarifies.

I nod. "Yes, we need to make sure that it's peaceful and that people see it's peaceful."

Walter narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Well, right now isn't the time for violence. First we must demonstrate a peaceful resistance to show people that we're not volatile or crazy or radicals, and that will hopefully convince them to join us. And, also, if the cops attack us it will make _them _look bad and people will see that the _cops _are the enemy," I explain.

Walter nods, looking thoughtful. "Alright. But why do you need me?"

I shrug. "Well, first of all, I would want you there with us anyway. But one specific reason is that we need you to find those truthers that rescued you the night you came back. Can you?"

"I should be able to. I know where they took me anyway," he replies.

"Alright, cool. And then the other reason is that, if things do get nasty, we need you to come sweeping in like the superhero you are to save the day," I finish.

"But I thought you wanted this to be peaceful," he protests.

"We do. But, with the way things have been going lately, it probably won't be," Eddie answers before I can. "And if the cops do attack, we probably won't be able to stand up against them because they will have guns, tasers, whatever they need to control the situation. So we need someone like you, who's had experience fighting cops, to step in and help us."

"Yeah, and, even though that's technically violence, I don't think people who see it will think of it that way," I add. "Because, if things go according to plan, they will see _us _as the victims and they will see_ you _as the hero. And, hopefully, that will make them okay with vigilantes and truthers and the like."

Walter raises his eyebrows, surprised, and leans back in his chair. "I am impressed. Who's idea was this?" he asks.

"Mine," I answer proudly.

"Oh, God..." Walter mutters immediately.

I glare at him. "What?" I demand.

"Well, if _you _planned it then something is _bound _to go wrong..."

"Hey!" I exclaim indignantly. "What do you take me for, an idiot?"

Walter smiles back at me in response. "Not always."

I roll my eyes. "Don't be such a smartass. It'll work, I promise."

"And if it doesn't?"

I hesitate. "Well, then, I guess...we _all _go to jail together," I respond and then shrug. "But, hey, if we aren't going to jail then where _are_ we going?"

Walter stares at me for a moment and then snorts. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that statement," he mutters and I laugh.

_~r.~_

We chose to enact our demonstration on Saturday. I told Jimmy and Damien to pick up Walter and drive him out to my house at noon so that we could prepare for the protest.

When they arrive, I greet them brightly at the door. "Hello, people. You guys hungry?" I ask, holding open the door for them.

"Ugh, _yes, _you have no _idea!" _Jimmy complains loudly, collapsing into a chair at the table.

I laugh, raising an eyebrow. "Is Damien starving you again?"

"Yes, please save me! He's keeping me trapped in his closet as his sex slave!" Jimmy exclaims. Walter looks sharply at Jimmy, who looks back at him challengingly. "What?"

"That's inappropriate," Walter answers bluntly.

"_And _there's no possible way you're still in any closet," I add, stirring the Ramen noodles simmering on the stove.

"Okay, first of all, it's not _my_ problem you're such a prude," Jimmy says, pointing a finger at Walter. "And, second of all," he continues, turning on me. "...You're right."

I laugh, nodding. "So are you," I reply. "Walter _is _a prude." Jimmy and I laugh together. Damien grins at us from where he is leaning against the wall.

"Will you two stop laughing at my expense?" Walter growls, scowling at us.

Jimmy, still laughing, quickly replies, "No! You're my new form of entertainment."

"I thought Damien was your entertainment."

"Cadence!"

"Okay, okay! Prude," I mutter, pouring the Ramen into a large bowl and carrying it to the table. "Alright, guys, I made plenty so just scoop out what you want and dig in."

"Jesus!" Jimmy exclaims, eyes wide as he looks into the bowl. "Why'd you make so much?"

"Easy," I answer, pouring out a little into a smaller bowl for myself. "Walter's a fatty."

After lunch, Jimmy and Damien head up to my room to make picket signs while Walter and I head out to the garage for some last minute training.

"When you get out there, you need to remember that those cops are not going to fight fair, and if you have to fight, you can't fight fair, either," Walter tells me as we square off.

"Okay, but I don't want to fight unless I absolutely have to," I reply, putting my fists up and preparing for Walter to begin.

But he stops and stands up straight again, staring at me seriously. "Cadence, if push comes to shove I want you to fight," he says.

I blink at him. "But...why? I told you, I want this to be a peaceful protest!"

"Yes, and you also told me that we'll fight when we have to," Walter replies stubbornly. "Cadence, you could easily get killed if you give them the chance. Don't give them that chance." With that, his fist darted out and I barely had time to swerve and avoid it. Drawing back his arm, he glared at me meaningfully. "If you don't promise to protect yourself I won't let you go at all," he growls, lashing out at me again.

I duck to avoid a fist in the face and then gape at him when I rise back up. "_Let _me go?" I repeat incredulously. "This was _my _idea!" With that, I strike out at him and we start to dance around each other, sparring lightly. It takes a while- we take turns feinting and exchanging, falling back and advancing- but Walter finally grabs my wrist, swings me around and pulls my arm tightly behind my back.

I let out a high-pitched gasp of pain as he twists my arm at an awkward angle. "Promise you'll fight if you have to, and I'll let you go to the demonstration," he murmurs temptingly in my ear.

I try to twist my head around to glare at him. "You don't tell me what to do- _AAachkk!" _I yelp as he jars my arm up even further into my back. Pain shoots up my arm and I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth.

"Promise me," Walter repeats harshly, his breath hot in my ear.

"Oh...o_kay! _I promise!" I relent reluctantly. Walter smirks triumphantly and shoves me away. Gripping my arm in my other hand, I stretch it to get out the kinks and glare at him. "Why can't you ever coerce me into agreeing to something _without _hurting me?" He just chuckles and we return to our training.

After about a half an hour, Damien leans in the door. "Hey, Eddie just called. Our protestors are gathering near the police station right now so we should probably hit the road," he tells us.

"Okay. Thanks, Damien," I reply, wiping the sweat from my forehead with a small hand towel. "C'mon, Walter. Let's kick it."

"Kick what?" Walter replies and then gives me a lopsided smirk.

I roll my eyes and shove him as we step into the living room. "Smartass," I mutter. Walter shoves me back, but of course when _he _shoves _I _go stumbling forward and stub my toe on the side of the couch. "Oh, _fuck!" _I hiss under my breath as my toe throbs with pain. I take a moment to lean against the wall and let the pain subside, and as I do I take the time to wonder why the smallest things seem to hurt so damn much.

"Rylie?" my mom calls from the kitchen. "Do you need a ride into town?"

Unable to speak, I shake my head. At my side, Walter leans down and murmurs in my ear, "She can't hear you shake your head, Rylie."

I whip my head up to glare at him furiously and then, in a high-pitched, off-key voice, I holler, "No." Walter laughs lightly and I reach over to punch him in the arm.

"Come _on, _you two, you can flirt later!" Jimmy hollers, grabbing my hand as he races past us and dragging me out to Damien's truck.

"_Jimmy!" _I exclaim, giving him an incredulous, "I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that" look.

He just looks at me and rolls his eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Rylie, everyone can see that you _love-"_

"Don't even say it!"

"What? I was just gonna say that you love ice cream," Jimmy replies innocently, shoving himself into the truck and then giving me a much-too-sweet-to-be-innocent grin. I glare at him dangerously but get in after him without saying another word. Once we're all in the car, Damien pulls out of the driveway and we're on our way, singing loudly to Muse's "Uprising".

When we arrive downtown, a few blocks from the police station, Walter helps Jimmy and Damien unload the signs while I pull out my phone and call Eddie. He picks up on the first ring. "Yo, Rylie. You guys here?"

"Yeah, we're a few blocks down. How are things going?" I reply.

"Good. We're just getting organized. Man, after I mentioned Walter those gang kids just came pouring out of the woodwork," Eddie tells me.

I blink, feeling a wave of panic flutter in my chest. "You mentioned him by name?" I question, horrified.

"No! What do you take me for, a moron? No, I just described him to that Rob guy your boy mentioned and they jumped on this idea."

I sigh, relieved. Nothing would be worse than revealing Walter's identity. "Okay. I'm gonna send Jimmy and Damien over first with the signs and then you call me when you're ready."

"Kay. See you soon."

"Yep."

After we hang up, I turn to the guys. "Okay, I want you two to go ahead of us," I say, pointing at Jimmy and Damien.

"Kay. See you guys there," Damien agrees, nodding to us, and then heading out.

Briskly, I turn to Walter and he looks back at me in confusion. "What?" he says.

"Hold on a sec," I reply and reach into Damien's truck. "I made this last night. It's not really anything special, but if you're gonna swoop in and save the day, it would be best to hide your identity," I explain and hold out a small leather half-mask. It's one of the ones that only covers the top half of the face. When I'd bought it, it had just been a plain, glossy black. Last night, I had painted a white inkblot pattern across its entire length.

Walter takes it and looks at it for a few moments, and then he raises his head and looks at me. "Thank you," he murmurs quietly.

I shrug, looking away awkwardly. "It's not as cool as your actual mask but it'll do," I insist.

But Walter shakes his head. "No. It's beautiful," he tells me. Glancing up, I realize that Walter is watching me with a peculiar expression- it is one I can't place and one that makes me feel hot and light on my toes.

But, not a half second later, my phone rings, making us both jump. I quickly dig it out of my pocket and flip it open. "Hello?" I manage to say in an airy voice.

"It's time. Operation 'this-will-most-likely-end-badly' is a go," Eddie says, sounding proud of himself.

"Kay, we'll be right there," I reply, hang up, and then turn on my heel to face Walter while skillfully avoiding looking straight at him. "C'mon, let's go."

So we run, keeping pace with each other until we reach the alley leading to the police station. I pull to a halt, peeking out at the protestors who've already gathered and started yelling, calling out the police officers. "Okay, you wait here and watch to see if anything gets out of hand," I tell Walter.

He nods. "And you fight if you have to," he replies.

Rolling my eyes, I emerge from the alley to join the group. Eddie greets me immediately, grinning from ear to ear and holding up a sign that says "WE ARE NOT YOUR PRISONERS!"

"Isn't this awesome?" he says, his bright blue eyes seeking mine. I gratefully sink into the soft, familiar folds of my affection for him, still reeling from the almost overwhelming emotions from before with Walter. This is safe, this is home.

"Yeah, it's great," I agree, smiling back at him and then looking around at the people surrounding us. "And you got so many people to come," I add, pleasantly surprised.

"Told you they were comin' outta the woodwork," Eddie says, handing me a sign.

"You did tell them that we're going to try to make this as peaceful as possible, right?" I clarify, thrusting the sign proudly into the air.

"Yes."

"And you told them that if push comes to shove, they should run unless they absolutely _have _to fight?"

"_Yes."_

"And you told them-"

"Rylie!" Eddie cuts me off and shakes his head at me. "Trust me, honey bunches of oats. When have I ever let you down?"

I snort. "Plenty of times," I reply and Eddie laughs. "And I am not your oat bunch!" I snap in a quiet aside, pretending to be irritated.

It doesn't take long for the cops to come out and want us gone. At first it's just three officers, trying to push us back. "You all need to leave," one of them says.

"Why? We're just exercisin' our First Amendment rights, man," one of the protestors up front replies.

"You're making a scene," the cop continues, still trying to force us back.

Curious bystanders have started to gather on the sidewalks around us, watching, and a fierce satisfaction has me grinning smugly at one of the cops. He stares back at me for a moment before he starts to come over. _Yeah, come over here, ya motherfucker, I dare you! _I think feverishly. A red haze has washed over my sight and all thoughts of a peaceful protest have pretty much disappeared from my mind. I _want _to fight.

But just before he reaches me, Eddie steps between us. Fury burns in my chest. _Move! _I want to scream but I stop myself just in time.

"You all need to go home now," the cop tells him.

"Read the sign, buddy. You can't control us," Eddie replies steadily.

The police officer just curls his lip in a tiny sneer and flashes his badge. "I'm sorry, but this badge here says I can."

"You're badge doesn't mean anything. You're just a bully in a suit," Eddie responds, and though I'm still irritated with him, I'm also so proud of him.

The cop draws himself up to his full height, the smirk disappearing. "Give me your sign and get down on the ground," he growls.

Eddie snorts contemptuously. "No, you can't tell me what to do, cocksucker, remember?"

"Watch your language. Get down on the ground!" the cop barks in reply. More cops have begun to converge around us, and I can feel it again- the red wave of heat that encourages me to fight. The air is combustible, I can feel it closing in, a choking yet strangely freeing pressure.

And then, so quickly I barely have time to register it, a spark flashes and the whole situation erupts in flames.

One of the cops drags a protestor out of the group and slams him into the pavement. Almost in the same instant, the cop next to Eddie grabs his arm and tries to pull him away, too.

"No!" I scream and lunge toward them, prepared to do anything necessary to help him. And that's when a blurred form slams into the cop, knocking him away from Eddie and I. I gasp, stumbling backward in shock, though in retrospect I know I shouldn't have been surprised.

Around us, the group has started to break apart, and though I want them to stay I know it's better for the plan if they don't.

Once they're over their initial surprise, the cops start to converge on Walter, who has just beaten the everlivin' out of our officer. Standing, he takes a moment to glare at me and Eddie. "Get out of here!" he snaps and then returns his attention to the police.

I gape at him. _I thought you wanted me to fight if I had to! _I want to shout, but instead I just exchange a glance with Eddie. His eyes mirror mine, his posture resolute, and we agree with simply a nod.

Walter has begun his fight with the cops, and though he is holding his own (and it's amazing to see him in action), he is already badly outnumbered. Quickly, I raise my sign high above my head and ram the end of it into one of the officers' necks. Then, wasting no time, I kick out strongly at the inside of his knee. He collapses instantly and I kick out again, this time swinging my entire body around and catching his jaw with my heel. And silently I thank Walter for forcing us to endure the "log training" to perfect our balance because, though I wobble slightly from the impact of that kick, I don't fall.

A few feet away, Eddie brings his arm back, catching an officer's cheek with his elbow and then, bringing it back again, catches the officer's nose with his fist. Jimmy and Damien have joined us, and several of the other protestors. All around us, horrified spectators stand frozen, watching. Some are filming the scene with their phones. _Good, _I think gratefully. _More people will see this._

For a little while, it almost appears as though we have the upper hand. And then, out of nowhere, the suits appear. My heart nearly stops in my chest. My mind fills with panic and the first person I search for amid the chaos is Walter. I can't let them get him.

Immediately, Eddie is at my side, his eyes dark. "We've got to leave," he says.

I look back at him with wide, panicked eyes. "We can't leave without Walter!" I protest.

Eddie narrows his eyes but doesn't speak, just looks around quickly, pulling me tightly against him and shielding me with his body. After a few heartbeats, he points into the thick of the crowd and shouts, "There! I see him!" Grabbing my hand, he plunges into the chaos, towing me with him. When we reach Walter, we have to help Jimmy and Damien pull two officers off of him, and in my head I am thanking God that we arrived in time to help.

"C'mon, guys, let's make some tracks and get out of here," Eddie growls and we all turn to leave.

But as we're running, I get separated from the pack in the midst of the scattering protestors. A suit falls onto a man right at my feet and I'm forced to skid to a halt. Across from me, Walter has noticed I'm not with them and he turns. Somehow, in the middle of everything, our eyes meet for a fraction of a second...and it's as though I've stepped into the eye of the storm. All of my panic and supercharged energy falls away, bleeds out of me, leaving behind only a cool, silent calm. In Walter's eyes, everything is okay.

This happens in the span of a single heartbeat. In my peripheral vision, I see an officer leaping for me. Below me, the suit has finished with his victim and is reaching for me. My eyes find Walter's again and I gather myself. I only have one shot at this and the time is now.

He reaches for me at the same time I leap for him. My body twirls like a dart between the officer flying just inches above me and the suit grabbing at me from below. For an instant, I'm not sure if I'll make it...

And then Walter's hands touch mine and I hurtle into the protective curl of his body. Neither of us waste any time. Walter pulls me to my feet and I grip his hand tightly and we all escape back the way we came.

_**Rorschach**_

_Manhattan! _I call in my head, pacing furiously back and forth in the center of the warehouse.

_Yes, Walter? _The reply comes immediately, no hesitation. He e_xpected _it. My lip curls.

_The suits, _I bark. _How do they keep finding me?_

_Are you referring to the confrontation today? _Manhattan inquires calmly.

_Yes, _I reply, and even though it's in my mind I make sure it sounds like I'm speaking through my teeth.

_They didn't know it was you today, _he says. _They were just called in to help the police control the situation while they're in Kansas._

I blink, brought up short. _What do you mean "while they're still in Kansas"?_

_They're only in Kansas because you are there._

I clench my teeth and flex my fingers, itching to punch something. Why can't he just be direct with me? _Okay, but that doesn't answer my original question, _I growl impatiently.

_How do they keep finding you, you mean?_

I have to wait ten seconds before I reply to keep myself from screaming. _Yes, _I hiss.

_They were originally alerted to your presence when I transported you there after your inception, but they ignored it because they thought it might just be a fluke. And then I sent you the grappling hook gun and it was too much of a coincidence for them to ignore. So Adrian had suits sent here to keep tabs on my energy transfer, _Manhattan explains.

I take a moment to process this and then blink in confusion. _Why didn't they pick up your notes then? Won't anything you send show up on their radar? _I ask.

_A note is not complex. A gun is, _he replies simply.

_But you can dismantle guns with your mind! So it must not be terribly complex, _I argue stubbornly.

_That doesn't mean it won't show up on their radar. I can also create living, breathing human life as well as dismantling guns, _he reminds me in a voice that's almost stern. _Both are more complex than a note._

I scowl, not appreciating his attempt to make me feel inferior. _Fine. Then why did you transport me at all if I was complex enough to show on their radar? Don't you understand how dangerous that is for my friends? _I demand, letting rage color every undertone of my thoughts.

_Because I can't come down there myself. And I knew you needed to go, _Manhattan replies steadily.

_Why can't you come down here yourself? _I challenge him. For a moment, I wonder if he's just too much of a coward to face the world he once turned his back on.

_They watch for me specifically, _he answers. _It doesn't make as much noise on their radar if I send someone else._

_But now they know where I am! Wasn't the whole point of my not walking around in costume all the time to remain inconspicuous?_

_Soon that time will pass, and then you can embrace Rorschach. But until then, just remain as invisible as you can. And don't worry about Cadence. She will be fine, _he adds softly.

I glare down at my feet but the anger has softened just slightly. _It's not just her I worry about, _I growl.

_But she is the one you would die for._

For a moment, I have no idea how to respond to that and I just stand there, silent. I remember how, when I'd seen her standing there in the middle of the fight, something inside of my had almost broken. If she had been captured or hurt or...killed... Well, in any case, I had been unable to care about myself after that. My fate hadn't mattered. But if anything happened to Cadence, nothing would make sense.

_But now it's over and you can get over it, _Rorschach snaps inside of me, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten the beast sitting in my chest.

Eventually, when I'm able to gather my thoughts again, I kick a piece of cement so hard it almost goes crashing out the window, glaring at nothing in particular. And then I mutter, _I would die for almost anyone if there was a need to. It's part of my job description._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, okay, sorry about the long chapter, I just couldn't help cramming a bunch of words into one document :P But I guess it's okay because I'll be leaving for Colorado tomorrow and I won't be able to update until next week at some point so I guess this'll give you guys something to chew on for a while. Hurm...well, suppose that's it. See you in a week! Please review, they make me happy!


	22. Twenty Two

NOTE: This chapter requires the song "All of This" by Blink-182 for Eddie's POV. And I suppose I should rate this chapter M for Eddie's crude humor just to be safe, but I honestly don't think it's that bad.

22. Quiet, It Seems, Is My Specialty

_**Rylie**_

Our little escapade was all over the news almost immediately. For a while the newscasters tried to make it seem as though the protestors were at fault, as though we were delinquents just trying to stir up trouble.

But as the videos on Youtube continued to reveal the truth, continued to proclaim that _we _were in the right, the newscasters had been forced to draw attention to that fact. Of course, they worded it in a way that made it seem as though they were still investigating that "possibility". Which was crap.

Still, though, we had succeeded. We had drawn attention to our cause. And, as a bonus, no one had seemed to notice that me or my friends were involved, which was something that Walter confessed he'd been worried about.

It's a few days after my demonstration when I'm brought back down to reality. In my history class, we're put into small groups to do a timeline of a decade of our choice. Of course, with _my _luck, I'm paired up with two popular bitches. They are both blonde and petite and athletic and beautiful- everything I'm not. Well, except the athletic part. They are tiny as twigs and I'm pretty sure I can take them, and I have Walter to thank for my new physique.

When they sit down, they ignore me completely, too busy talking to each other to notice little ol' me. _Great. This is going to be fun, _I think, sighing and resting my chin in my hand.

After a few minutes, one of the girls looks at me with a snotty, arrogant expression. "Um, don't you think you should get started on this? It's due tomorrow, you know," she says. I blink at her for a moment, completely amazed at her audacity.

But I don't say anything. I can't. The thought of it makes me shudder. Though I know she has no respect for me now, I just can't stand the thought of her hating me, of making an enemy. This is one thing about myself that I truly hate. I can't go one day without worrying about what everybody thinks of me.

So I just nod silently and get to work, all the while burning with rage and embarrassment. I can't help wondering what Walter would say if he saw me like this.

By the end of the class, I'm close to finishing, and without any help from my partners. Silently, I hand them the timeline. They look at me as though I've just sprouted another, even uglier head. "Well, I just thought since I did most of the work in class you guys could take it home and finish it," I explain quietly.

The first girl, who seems like the queen bee (and by bee I mean bitch), looks at me with an almost pitying expression. "Oh, I'm sorry but we're booked tonight," she tells me.

"It won't take that long," I start to protest but she cuts me off.

"I know, hon, but you've already done such a nice job. Why don't you just take it home and finish it?" She blinks her bright green eyes at me expectantly, smiling a fake smile. I nod, looking away.

As I'm packing up my things and preparing to head to my next class, I hear the two girls whispering. "...Yeah, I know, I wish we could change partners. It's not that I _hate _her, it's just that...well, she's just so _weird," _one of them is saying. My face heats up.

"Yeah, she, like, never talks. It's just creepy. Like she's some sort of mass murderer or something," the other one says and they both laugh.

Then the first one gasps, looking horrified. "Oh my God, what if she's a _lesbian?" _she hisses.

The other one blinks, shocked. "No...you don't think..."

"Well, she does kind of look like a dyke..."

They both glance at me and I quickly look away. My face must be as red as a tomato, my body heated up to a thousand degrees with embarrassment. It's amazing how only two people can make you feel like hell.

And just when I think my day can't get any worse...it does.

I'm walking into the cafeteria with Emmi, and I'm in the middle of telling her of my history class experience, when I see them. Eddie walking over to sit with one of the bitches from this morning. He grins at her and she beams back.

I stop dead right in the middle of the cafeteria, completely blindsided. It feels as though my heart is going to crack in two. Emmi, following my gaze, immediately tries to jump to my rescue. "Hey, maybe they're just friends, huh?" she says quickly, smiling hopefully at me.

I look back at them flatly and then turn back to Emmi, pursing my lips and nodding. "Yeah. They're _real _friendly."

Emmi turns to see what I'm talking about and gasps, looking half-horrified, half-disgusted. I know what she'll be seeing. Eddie sucking on that mail-order whore's tongue. Before she can say anything else to me, I turn on my heel and sweep out of the cafeteria without another word.

_~r.~_

"So, Cadence. You're unusually quiet today," Walter observes thoughtfully. We're up in my room finishing homework. Well, okay. _I'm _finishing the homework. Walter is shuffling the songs on my ipod, which is quietly playing through the speakers of my ihome as background music.

Glancing up at him looking straight back at me, I suddenly relax. It feels as though, all today, I've been walking around like a giant granite stone- hard, cold, depressed- and now, with simply a glance, I crumble. A fierce, warming relief washes over me. The granite weight disappears and I deflate visibly.

"Oh, I just didn't have the greatest of days," I respond with a shrug, trying to act like it's nothing.

Walter is silent for a moment. "Well...do you want to..." He trails off as if he doesn't know what to say.

I look at him curiously. "Want to what?" I ask.

"I don't know...talk about it?" he finishes, shrugging to downplay the question.

I hesitate. I don't want to go spilling all of my meaningless drama on him, but...I do kind of want to vent to someone, and for some reason I want that someone to be him. So before I know it...

"...And then I walk into the cafeteria and Eddie's swapping spit with the dirty tramp!" I finish, by now on my feet and fuming. Walter has listened silently, graciously, and for that I am eternally grateful. I know him well enough to know he's not one for idle drama, but the fact that he listened without interrupting with some derisive comment means a lot to me.

After a few moments, Walter looks up at me. "Well, do you hate this whore for her derogatory comments or do you hate her for dating Eddie?" he inquires quietly.

I stop, for the second time today blindsided. I'm well aware of the blush coloring my cheeks and my expression, which must resemble a deer in the headlights. Am I really this transparent? "I don't know what you mean," I reply weakly.

Walter gives me an impatient look. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," he says.

I hesitate for just a moment, for some reason unwilling to tell Walter of my feelings for Eddie. But at the same time I know it will be no use trying to lie to Walter; he's like a human lie detector. "I guess...a little bit of both. I mean, the whole dating Eddie thing was kind of the feather that broke the camal's back, you know? I mean, what really pissed me off was just how they were talking about me," I explain.

"I still don't understand why it bothered you so much," Walter says.

I stare at him. "She said horrible things about me!" I exclaim, confused.

"So what? She doesn't matter."

"Walter, you don't get it!" I snap, glaring at him. "I take things too personally. I don't like hearing people say bad things about me."

"Well, you're just going to have to get used to that, especially if you want to be a vigilante. I have bad things said about me all the time and do they bother me?"

I can't help smiling at him teasingly. "I think they bother you and you just won't admit it. I think secretly you're crying inside and that's why you're such a grump all the time," I say.

Walter snorts. "Yeah, I'm just all broken up about it. But seriously, if it bothered you, why didn't you say something?" he inquires.

"I...I don't know. I don't really...I don't like to make enemies," I answer, feeling my body heat up with shame.

Walter sighs. "You wear so many masks," he says, sounding disappointed.

I blink at him. "What?"

"You change yourself to please others. But who are you really?" He peers at me, as though trying to figure it out himself.

I scowl. "Hey, don't get all philosophical on me. That's crap. You know who I am," I growl.

"I didn't know you were such a coward."

That stops me dead. I stare at him and he stares back. "_What _did you say?" I demand, approaching him slowly.

He stands and looks down on me. "You're a coward. You're a conformist. You do everything you can to blend into the crowd. You're just another girl," he tells me, stepping toward me and forcing me backward with each claim. His eyes are hard and cold; there is a challenge in them that I instantly rise to.

"You fucking prick," I hiss, stepping forward and forcing him back now. "You have got a lot of fucking nerve, you know that? You know, I thought we were friends but I guess it's just too hard for you to get over your shitty attitude. Well, either way, I'll have you know that I am _not _a coward, I am _not _a conformist, and I am _not _just another damn girl!" I scream, shoving my finger into his chest.

He smiles down at me. "There's my Cadence," he says warmly, the hardness disappearing from his eyes.

I stare up at him. "...What?"

He shrugs. "I just wanted to see if you would stand up to me, and you did," he responds. "I figured you would."

"So...you just said all that to piss me off?" I clarify.

"I said all that to prove to you that you _can _and _should _stand up to someone if you feel it's necessary. If you don't, you'll never be a true vigilante, and you'll never be a true rebel, either," he explains.

I stare at him for a long time and then shake my head. "You are either a genius or you're insane," I mutter.

Walter just laughs. "Well, if history is any idication, I believe the two sort of go hand-in-hand."

_**Rorschach**_

Two criminals coming up fast. Lie in wait for them, savoring approach. Animal beats inside of me, hungry, lusting for violence. Light of the moon beats down like pale sunlight, illuminating, tearing apart shadows.

Know that these two are true criminals, have nothing to do with Resistance; they are pure filth, men who kidnap children, sell them for money. While Cadence did her homework, I did mine. Truthers are willing to give information to me. Find them useful, eager to please. Have allies now. Job is not so difficult.

As criminals take step past alley, I leap, slam into them, send them to the ground. They cry out, shocked and angry. I stand above them. My shadow blots out their faces, but can still see their eyes wide, staring up at me, their bodies trembling. Fear permeates air around me. I can smell it. Drink it in like it's bouquet of roses.

Slam boot into closest man's chest, shattering sternum. Feel crunch of bone rattle up my leg and the beast inside smiles. Man cries, clutching at chest. Lift my foot up and descend upon him again. Sink in to my ankle. Blood fills my shoe. Man collapses, twitching and gasping, vomiting blood onto the sidewalk. Other man tries to run. Reach out with arm and grab his shoulder, yank him back so hard he falls again to the pavement.

"No, no, please, man, don't-don't kill me!" he whimpers, tries to scuttle away.

Shrug at him. "Fine. I won't," I reply. Man relaxes visibly, closes his eyes as though he thinks it's over.

Fool.

Pick him up by the collarbone and yank him into the alley. "Wait! What are you doing?" he protests, tries to pull away. Slam his head into brick wall. Not enough to kill him. Just enough to knock him out.

With less resistance, am able to carry him over shoulder without difficulty. There is an abandoned garage not far from here. Will dispose of him there.

When I get there, cross the room in long, purposeful strides. Can't waste too much time on just one criminal. Too much scum left unpunished.

Throw man down on floor like something disgusting, disposable. Garbage. Trash. Grab cargo hook hanging from ceiling and pull it over to the man. He is still asleep. This will wake him up.

Pull him up and jam hook deep into his upper back. Eyes flash open with a shriek. Tries to reach around and pull out hook but, realizing it's out of reach, turns to me pleadingly. "Get me down!" he screams, thrashing.

Don't reply. Pull the chain back until he is hovering two feet from the floor, then tie it off to keep it there. Walk around to face him. Cock my head to the side and admire my work. He continues to struggle. Hook digs deeper into his back.

"Shouldn't jerk around too much," I tell him. "It'll just sink in deeper. Would be wise not to make too much racket."

His face, red with pain and exertion, fills with fury. "_You fucking son of a bitch, you get me down right fucking now!" _he bellows.

I turn away. He continues to scream. When I'm a block away, I cease to hear him. No one will find him for a while.

_**Eddie**_

"Hey, Rylie, this is your Edward speaking." I'm starkly aware of the huge, goofy grin on my face. _Damn, this girl can turn me into a giant idiot, _I think affectionately.

"Eddie. What's up?"

I furrow my brows, concerned. Her voice sounds unusually flat. Something's bothering her. "What's wrong?" I ask immediately, ignoring her question.

"Nothing. Why do you ask?" Still flat.

I frown. "Well, you just sound really...depressed," I explain slowly. Inwardly I'm searching for some sort of trigger.

"I'm not depressed. I'm tired. Walter's been working me really hard lately," Rylie replies, but I can tell she's not completely telling the truth. She isn't just tired.

Immediately, I tense up. I don't like Walter spending so much time with Rylie anyway, but if he's somehow the cause of her depression I'll kick his ass. "What did he do?" I demand.

"_He _didn't do anything," Rylie snaps. "And why do you always have to assume Walter is the cause of my problems? Cuz, frankly, I'd rather deal with him than with _some _people."

That pulls me up short. The anger follows quickly after it. "Well, if you're trying to say something just say it!" I snap.

"Okay, fine. That blonde bimbo you're dating right now? Yeah, she's a bitch to me. A total bitch. And I just hope you know what you're getting into."

Click.

I stand there for a few moments, letting that sink in. I am cold where I stand. My heart aches. It kills me enough to have to date every single girl except Rylie. But to date one that's mean to her?

After a while, I narrow my eyes in determination. "I'll fix this, Rylie," I murmur quietly, fiercely.

_~r.~_

I wait for a few days to test the waters. I don't know what Melony did to Rylie- I mean, I've always known that Melony is the class bitch that everyone seems to secretly hate but want to screw at the same time- but if it's making her this depressed, the punishment will have to be harsh, something to put her in her place. I can't let anyone get away with hurting my Rylie like this.

Three days pass before I figure out what I'm going to do, and over those three days I watch Rylie from afar. She doesn't talk to me; she ignores me completely. And I keep my eyes fixed on her longingly. There is so much I want to say to her, so much I want to do, but I just can't. I have to keep up this facade, keep dating all these girls, all the while suffering incessantly. Because there is no way I can risk our friendship, no way to tell her I love her when I could lose what we are altogether.

And I just don't know what I would do if she told me she didn't love me back.

All I want is her. Whenever I'm with her, I constantly struggle with the urge to confess how I feel about her, how I've _always_ felt about her. At night, I can't help but imagine holding her in my arms, touching her, feeling her move under me, listening to her sigh my name... We would be so good together. I know in my heart that I was born to love and protect her.

And that's what I'll do, unil my last breath.

On Friday, we're having an end-of-the-school-year pep rally. During this particular pep rally, students who are brave enough send notes in to the office for the student council officers to read. Occasionally there are marriage proposals and even, on the opposite end of the spectrum, break-ups. But generally, these notes are from boyfriends to their girlfriends telling them how they feel about them. Mine will be no exception. And, lucky for me, I've informed Jimmy, who is a STUCO officer, of my plan, and he's agreed to read my note.

When I sit down in the gym with some of my football buddies, Mark and Isaiah, I spot Rylie immediately. She is sitting a few rows down with Emmi and Damien. I have to stop myself from going down there and sitting with her right now. That will come in time. For now, I just have to ride it out.

The pep rally finally starts, and it seems to take forever to get to the messages, which are at the very end. And then it seems to take another whole forever to get to _my _message. But when Jimmy finally walks out into the middle of the gym and takes the mic, I sit back and grin.

"Hello, my fellow students," Jimmy begins, grinning at everyone. Half of the room cheers raucously, the other half boos loudly. I know Jimmy's used to it- he even kind of encourages it; he gets a kick out of watching guys squirm when he tells them he's queer- but even so I can't help tensing up, wanting to deck them all right in their smartass mouths. As it is, I _do _turn around and say "Shut the fuck up" to two guys behind me.

"The message that _I _will be reading is from Eddie Hollis to his lovely arm candy Melony Handler," he continues once the crowd has quieted down. I can't help glancing down at Rylie. Her back is turned to me but I can see from the rigidity of her back, the way her shoulders and spine are tensed up, that she is pissed and upset. _I'm sorry, babydoll, _I think guiltily. _Once you hear this, it'll all be okay._

"'Roses are red, violets are blue, I am in love,'" Jimmy pauses, grinning, and I know he's doing it for dramatic emphasis. I have to grin, too. "'But not with you.'"

The crowd starts to murmur uncertainly. Mark and Isaiah look at me as if I've lost my mind. I just smirk back at them and turn back to Jimmy. "'You know, they say one man's trash is another man's treasure. Well, you certainly aren't _my _treasure so I wish the next guy luck. Or maybe you're just one's man's trash and another man's chlamydia.'"

The crowd gasps at that one. Some of the teachers start to stand uncertainly, as though trying to decide whether or not to put a halt to my message. Down near the bottom, I can see Melony, sitting with her cheerleading friends and searching for me, her face a mixture of shock and pissed-offedness. I feel my satisfaction growing.

Looking down, I see Jimmy grin at the next one. "'Of course, you may not have to worry about the whole chlamydia part if you get with one of those sex dolls you've been talking about. I mean, you have to admit no one would ever want to have sex with you unless they _were _plastic or maybe blind...or couldn't smell. I mean, seriously, girl, don't you have an dignity? I'm surprised you can go anywhere with that fish market between your legs.'"

Loud "oohs!" fill the room. The teachers get up and start hurrying over to Jimmy. Quickly, he finishes. "'But, then again, I guess that's just the price you pay for screwing the entire school.'"

Cheers erupt in the crowds as the teachers pull Jimmy from the microphone. I can see another teacher coming for me and I stand, deciding to meet them halfway. As I walk down to them, I scan the crowd for Rylie. She is standing up, looking for me. When she sees me, she gives me this adorably surprised "Oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-you-did-that" look. I just shrug, grinning, and open my hands to say "eh-what-do-you-expect?"

As the teachers drag me and Jimmy out of the gym, the other students stand up to applaud as we pass.

_**Rylie**_

"...And so the frickin idiot is suspended for two weeks," I finish. I have just been telling Walter the whole story of Eddie's display at the pep rally, my heart pounding the entire time. So many questions in my head... Why did he do it? Did he do it because of what I told him? Was she bitchy to him, too? Did she hurt him?

"Well. Are you happy?" Walter inquires, pulling out strands of the silver-blue carpet beneath him.

"Well, yeah," I admit, grabbing his hand and setting it in his lap before he destroys any more of it. "I mean, he's not with that skank anymore. That's good, right?"

"Yes," Walter agrees but he sounds reluctant. He's not looking at me. I narrow my eyes. He's not telling me something.

"What? What's the problem? Has Eddie got some ulterior motive?" I sneer.

Walter's head snaps up, his eyes blazing. "Yes. Trying to get you in bed, steal away your innocence," he snaps.

My mouth pops open so wide I think it must have hit the floor. I stare at him in shock, unable to find my voice for a moment. _"What. The hell?" _I finally exclaim. Walter doesn't reply and I purse my lips, grinding my teeth together. "What, so Eddie's only friendly to me because he wants to fuck me?"

"Don't deny you wouldn't like that," he snaps immediately.

"What is your problem?" I demand, outraged. "You don't know him!"

"Do you?" Walter asks, staring into my eyes.

The answer, so direct and quick, stops me short. What if I _don't _know Eddie? What if Walter is right? For a moment, I entertain the thought; even though part of me is sickened by the thought, another part of me can't help admitting it would be nice to have Eddie lusting after me.

_No, _I think firmly, shoving the thought from my mind. I look up and glare strongly into Walter's eyes. "No. You're wrong. I know Eddie, he's my best friend and I would trust him with my life," I growl.

Walter watches me for a long time, silent, his eyes hard. And then his expression softens and he looks away, as though suddenly tired. "It's your life, Cadence. I can't tell you what to do with it," he says quietly.

I glare at him for a moment longer, still heated and wanting to continue our fight. But after a second of hesitation I sigh, deciding against it. "C'mon," I say, standing up. "Let's go get some training in before you have to go."

And we do, but it's not as friendly as before.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I've been outlining this story/series, and I've separated it into three sections. This part that I'm writing now is going to be the most light-hearted of the bunch. The second part is going to be long and full of action, and it will start to get darker. And then the last part is going to be very dark, very gritty, with lots of violence and M-ness. Just to let you all know. :) Read and review!


	23. Twenty Three

23. Jokes Are Usually Funny (But Right Now I'm Not Laughing)

_**Rylie**_

When Eddie gets back to school after being suspended, I invite him out to lunch. We drive out to Peking Taste for sushi and rice noodles, and after we sit down to eat, I can't resist asking him the question that I haven't been able to bring myself to ask him till now.

"So...why did you do it?"

Eddie looks up from his plate, a long strand of noodle hanging from his mouth. "Do what?" he replies, his mouth full.

I give him a look. "You know? Why did you do what you did to that Melony chick?" I insist, impatient.

"Oh," Eddie says, looking down at his plate and shrugging. "She was just a bitch, that's all."

"She was a bitch to you?" I ask.

"No..."

"Then who-"

"You, you idiot! Damn, do I have to spell it out? Why the hell did you think I did it, for kicks?" Eddie exclaims, looking at me in exasperation.

Inside of me, there are little flutteries dancing all around, making me feel all fluttery, too. "You did it for me?" I say in a shy voice.

"Of course I did it for you, silly. I would do anything for you, don't you know that by now?" Eddie replies, still exasperated but softer now. He smiles at me gently and I smile back. For a moment, even though my heart is pounding and my stomach is tying itself in knots, I don't want anything else but to kiss him right now.

And then Walter's words echo in my head: _"Trying to get you in bed, steal away your innocence." _

Would Eddie really do that?

"Hey, listen, um, you didn't do that just to get in my pants, did you?" I inquire, struggling to make it sound like a joke instead of an honest question.

Eddie blinks, surprised. "No..." Then he raises an eyebrow and gives me a crooked grin. "But, if that's what you want..." he says and leans toward me across the table, puckering his mouth in an exaggerated kiss.

I laugh, shoving him away. "No, you pervert!"

"What? I _did _say I would do anything for you, didn't I?"

"Not that," I reply, shaking my head.

"Aw, why not? I'm _really _good at it!" he adds temptingly.

I snort. "Oh, yeah, who told you that? You're left hand or your right?"

"Bitch," Eddie mutters and I grin at him. But the grin falters on my face. I can't believe I just questioned Eddie about his motives. _Of course _Eddie did it for me because Eddie is my _best friend. _He isn't just using me for sex, he _wants _to be around me. I scowl. Walter is an asshole.

"So, you know what tomorrow is, right?" Eddie says, interrupting my thoughts.

I look up at him, blinking in confusion. "Uh..."

Eddie gasps, looking at me with a fake shocked expression. "It's our April Fool's day! Tomorrow's the 30th! I can't believe you didn't remember. I'm hurt," he says, shaking his head and clucking his tongue in disappointment.

"Come off it, Eddie, you drama queen," I retort, rolling my eyes, though in truth I do feel a little guilty. We had started our April Fool's tradition when we were fourteen, just after Eddie and Malcom had moved here from New York, and had done it every year since. Except this year I'd been so distracted by Eddie and Walter and the Resistance Movement that I had forgotten.

So that meant no prank this year for me...

Unless...

And a thought springs up in my mind as a smile begins to play on my lips.

Eddie looks at me and stops midchew. He slowly starts to smile, too. "There's an evil thought brewing. I can see it in the corners of your mouth," he comments, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

I grin back at him. "Well, at first I was thinking I woudn't be able to prank anyone this year because I forgot so I didn't have time to plan anything out...But I think maybe I've figured one out that I want to pull. But I'll need your help."

"Sure, anything," Eddie agrees immediately.

I nod, smiling evilly, remembering Walter's warning again."Great. Now, it's really simple, but I think it'll work..."

_~r.~_

The next day, Eddie and I drive Walter out to my house. Jimmy and Damien are at Damien's house, working on a Rube Goldberg machine for physics...which I should be working on, too, but I really just don't want to.

When we get to my house, head out to the garage like we usually do. "So, Rylie. You ready for your presentation tomorrow?" Eddie asks me.

I make a face, knowing he's referring to the fake presentation I have to give in front of my entire business class. "Oh, yeah," I mutter flatly. "Just pumped."

"Hurm. What presentation?" Walter inquires, stretching his arms. I blink, for a moment sidetracked by his muscles as they move smoothly under his freckled skin. Then he looks up and I realize he's still waiting for an answer.

Flushing, I quickly rush to explain. "Well, it's for my business class. I'm supposed to dress up really nicely, show up right on time, and give a fake speech to the entire class as if I'm presenting a new invention or idea to a company," I tell him and shrug. "It's supposed to build confidence or something."

Walter snorts. I narrow my eyes. "What?"

"Confidence is not clothes, or timeliness, or appearance. Confidence is facing whatever it is life throws at you. Confidence is what you need on the streets," he growls, looking right at me. I shiver for a moment, as though seeing every criminal he's brought down in his eyes.

"Now, let's get down to training. Confidence is great but it won't save your life unless you have some skills to back it up," he continues.

Eddie and I look at each other. This is our chance. "Um, actually, I'm not sure I really want to train anymore..." I reply.

Walter draws back a little, surprised. "Why?"

My heart starts to pound in my chest. This isn't like our normal pranks and we both know it. It makes me nervous. But Eddie comes over to me, smiling this really sweet, proud smile and something inside of me pauses, as though struck. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and we turn to look at Walter.

He looks back and forth between us suspiciously. "What?" he growls. I can tell by the way his muscles have rolled back that he's already tense.

"Eddie and I have some news," I say, struggling to keep the goofy grin off my face. Walter is silent, staring at us. I take a deep breath before saying it.

"I'm pregnant."

There is a beat of stillness in which Walter still watches us with the exact same expression.

And then a range of emotions flashes in his eyes: anger, betrayal, shock, fury, hurt, more betrayal.

But it settles on fury, and that's what scares me.

"You're _what?" _he hisses, stepping toward us in that stance I've come to learn is his "dangerous-Imma-kill-you" stance. His voice almost seems to sizzle. I think it would have been less scary if he'd yelled.

"Yeah, I got her pregnant and now we're gonna have a family together," Eddie replies, grinning, as though he doesn't notice just how furious Walter is.

Walter turns his attention sharply over to Eddie and there is an accusation in his eyes. His body is trembling with rage, clenching his hands so tightly into fists that his knuckles are ghostly white. His chest moves sharply up and down, his breathing heavy with anger.

And for a moment, the world around me disappears as a sense of deja vu settles over me. I am in a dark place. The edges around my sight are blurry- I can't tell exactly where I am- but Walter is in front of me. No, not Walter.

Rorschach.

He stands in front of me, trembling with rage, his face a swirl of black and white and...red. There is blood on his face. He is looking down at something. I look down, too...

And the vision disappears. I am back in the garage with Eddie and Walter. But Walter is still quivering with anger, and he takes a step toward Eddie. "You little whore, what have you _done _to her?" he snarls.

Hastily I step between them, forgetting the vision-memory-thing. Though I am still scared, I force myself to look directly into Walter's eyes. "Walter, Walter! It's not true!" I exclaim. He stops, blinking. "I'm not really pregnant," I insist.

He stares at me for a long time. "You're not...pregnant?" he repeats in a quiet, strangled voice.

"No. It was just a joke," I tell him, shaking my head.

"A joke?" he repeats, his voice flat and dark.

"Y-yeah...April Fool's prank..." I explain weakly.

He stands there, staring at us for a long time. Then he turns on his heel and walks out the door. "Walter!" I holler and start to follow him.

But Eddie grabs my arm and shakes his head. "Just let him cool off a little. He looked like he was either going to have a heart attack or punch a baby...which wouldn't have been good if you were _really _pregnant," he jokes and then shakes his head again. "Man, doesn't he know how to take a joke?"

So Eddie and I train on our own for a little bit, waiting for Walter to come back. But, when it's clear he isn't going to, Eddie leaves and I head into the house to do my chores, my heart weighing a little heavier in my chest with anxiety.

_**Eddie**_

I know it's stupid...but the whole time I was pretending to have gotten Rylie pregnant, I couldn't stop pretending that I actually had. The image had been floating around in my brain ever since she'd told me of her little plan, and I couldn't get it out. I can't even get it out now that I'm in the car, driving away, even now that Walter knows it was just a joke.

My mind is dizzy with the thought of actually fathering a child with her. It makes me proud and scared and euphoric all at the same time. My insides feel all soft and gooey right now, as though melted by the heat of my desire for this image. I want this, I want it so badly.

I keep thinking of Rylie standing next to me, my arm wrapped around her shoulder, both of us smiling. And her hands folded across her stomach, one above and one below the roundness of her stomach.

I keep thinking of touching her stomach, feeling a soft hand nudge my own, feeling our child through her skin, both of us staring at each other in wonder and complete happiness.

There are tears in my eyes now. I'm such a sap. These images will never happen. I might as well give up now.

...But, of course, I can't.

_**Rylie**_

When my alarm goes off in the morning, I take my time getting up. I'd set my alarm for five o'clock, earlier than I usually get up, so that I would have time to relax and prepare myself mentally for my business speech today.

But after a few seconds, I begin to notice how the sun is shining in through my blinds. Narrowing my eyes suspiciously, I get up to open the blinds...and when I see how high the sun is in the sky, my heart starts pounding. I whip around to look at my clock.

7:15. I have five minutes.

_"Shit!" _I hiss, rushing to my closet while silently wondering how I set my alarm for 7:00 instead of 5:00.

When I pull my chosen outfit out of my closet, it doesn't take me long to figure out why. The first thing I see are the holes. My beautiful black pinstripe dress is riddled with holes like Swiss cheese. I hold it up and stare at it with my mouth wide open, completely shocked and confused and about ready to cry.

Then I notice the slip of paper hanging out of the right sleeve. Pulling it out, I immediately recognize Walter's handwriting.

_Good morning, Cadence._

_You really shouldn't leave your window open. It tempts certain people. Hope you don't mind the additions to your dress. I thought it looked particularly fashionable myself. But if you don't share my fashion sense you can always wear something else._

Looking up from the note, I realize that there is nothing else in my closet. I had been so focused on my marred dress that I hadn't noticed the absence of clothing in my closet. "What the fuck am I supposed to wear if there's nothing in my closet, you dipshit?" I hiss, feeling fury like fire in my lungs. I look back down at the note and continue to read.

_Oh, that's right. There's nothing in your closet. Well, I guess you're really OUT ON A LIMB now, aren't you? Ha ha. _

I pause, rereading the part in all caps again, my eyes narrowed in confusion. Half of my brain is scrambling to figure out what he means while the other half is stressing, counting down how much time I've already wasted and how little time I have left. Downstairs, my mom calls my name.

"Out on a limb?" I repeat under my breath, and then a sneaking suspicion dawns in my brain. I head over to the window again and look out at the tree next to it. And hanging on it, spread out wide to cover almost the entire length of the tree, are my clothes. For the second time this morning, my mouth pops open in shock.

"Fuck this," I spit under my breath and run to my door. I'll just use some of my mom's clothes.

But when I pull on my door, nothing happens. I tug and pull and try to swing it open, but it's locked somehow. "Shit!" I growl, trying one last time to pull it open. But it doesn't budge and I end up falling backwards right on my ass. Trembling with anger and stress, I look back down at the note to finish reading it.

_Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you. I locked your door. I just wanted to make sure you were safe since you seem to think keeping your window open every night is smart. Hope everything goes well with your presentation today._

_April Fool's. Ha ha. _

_- Walter._

"You _fucking _asshole," I hiss through my teeth, feeling as though if Walter were anywhere near I would cut holes in _him_ like he did to my dress.

"Rylie! Are you ready to go?" my mom calls.

"Uh..." I search around frantically, looking for any cothes Walter might have missed, anything hidden under my bed. But, no. All of my clothes are hanging out on the tree. "Yeah. Just a sec," I holler back.

I have no choice but to climb out my window and step out onto the closest limb. I grab the first things my hands touch and throw them on, then climb down the rest of the tree and run in through the kitchen door. My mom stares at me. "Rylie, why did you-"

But I race past her without a word to the bathroom. I run a brush through my tangled hair and quickly brush my teeth. And that's it for my time. I race back out of the bathroom and hop in the car, with my mom staring at me as though I've lost my mind.

It's not till we're almost to the school that I realize I've left the notes for my presentation at home.

I'm about in tears, close to the breaking point- this is too much for me to handle, especially in the morning- when I remember what Walter said to me yesterday: _"Confidence is not clothes, or timeliness, or appearance. Confidence is facing whatever it is life throws at you." _

Suddenly, a sense of calm settles over me. I hop out of the car, square my shoulders, and walk into the school. Class has already started. When I walk into my business class, someone is in the middle of their presentation and everyone stops to stare at me as I take my seat. I ignore them. Even though my heart is pounding frantically in my chest, I keep my chin high and my expression cold, letting no one in.

When it's my turn, the teacher gives me a hard stare. "Rylie. Did you not understand the assignment?" he asks me in that condescending teacher voice.

I nod to him coolly. "Yes, sir, I did. But I realized that a truly great business person will work hard and get things done no matter what comes up," I tell him.

"And what if they're late?" he responds.

"They stay late after work to make up for lost time."

"And if they're not dressed appropriately?"

"It shouldn't matter what someone wears as long as it's not offensive...or nothing at all. What matters is how much effort someone puts into something, and how someone faces what life throws at them," I answer.

And as the speech continues I find myself thinking of Walter the entire time.

_~r.~_

I'm in the shop, wailing on the punching bag, when someone clears their throat from the doorway. Breathing heavily, I straighten and look up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe. I narrow my eyes instantly. There is a tiny smirk playing on his face. "Were you pretending that's me?" he inquires, pointing at the heavy bag.

"Only at first," I reply. "After a while the anger kinda wore off."

Walter chuckles and steps in, his hands in his pockets. "So, how'd it go?" he asks casually.

"Well, I got a D on the assignment. The only reason I didn't fail was because my teacher liked the fact that I embraced my, erm, _disheveledness," _I answer, glaring at him meaningfully.

"Hurm. So you're telling me you were _confident _and adapted to the situation?" he asks thoughtfully.

I narrow my eyes. "I'm not gonna thank you. That was a horrible stunt you pulled," I growl and then, after a moment, I smile slightly. "But thank you."

Walter snorts. "I didn't do it for you. I did it for my sanity. You worry too much," he says.

"I think any sanity you had left was gone a while ago," I reply and we both chuckle. It's weird, but all of the tension that's seemed to be building between us, all of the stilted awkwardness...gone. I smile, feeling lighter. "So. Any more punishments planned for me?"

Walter pretends to think for a moment and then shakes his head. "No, I think you've been punished enough. But you _will _need to make up for lost ground from yesterday. You know. Since you're _not _pregnant," he adds, glaring at me.

I gape at him. "I missed one day!" I exclaim.

"Yes. And one day can make all the difference. Now, let's get to work," he replies briskly. Groaning dramatically, I let him lead me into the garage to start our training.

_~r.~_

It's later that night (or morning, I suppose, since it was close to 3:30), as I'm working frantically to finish my Rube Goldberg machine that's due tomorrow, that I hear my window open and shut.

Looking up, I'm not surprised to see Walter. Even though I've never seen him sneak through my window before, it just seems like something he would do. But I don't have time for whatever it is he's dropped in for.

He looks down at me, raising an eyebrow. I turn back to my machine. "Not now, Walter, I'm trying to get this done," I mutter, frantically trying to find all the right pieces. Some part of me is dimly aware that I look a mess- hair falling into my face and sticking up in random places, eyes bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, fingers trembling with exhaustion. All of my hours of working hard with Walter and trying to fit in my homework late, late at night seem to have caught up to me all at once.

Walter stands next to me for a moment, just watching me, and I finally look up, ready to snap at him to get lost- I just have no patience right now. But I stop short of that, surprised at the look on his face. It's soft, sympathetic, and I've never seen him look this...gentle...before.

"Here," he murmurs softly, crouching down next to me and taking the pieces from my hands. I sit there, dumbfounded, until he looks at me and gives me one of those "_Well? _What are you waiting for?" looks. "Well, are you going to sit there, staring with your mouth open like some overgrown fish, or are you going to get in bed and get some sleep?" he snaps, back to his normal grumpy self. Except I can't help smiling because I'm not just imagining the teasing gleam in his eyes.

"Alright, alright, bossypants, I'm going," I retort, crawling into bed. "The instructions are over there."

And I drift off to sleep to the sound of Walter quietly putting my machine together.

_**Adrian**_

"Malcom. How are you?"

"Adrian! It's good to hear your voice. I was wondering if you'd forgotten about me."

"Ah, Malcom, how could I forget about you? How's Edward doing?"

"Oh, he's okay. He and Rylie have been hanging out a lot together lately."

"That's good. Glad to hear their friendship is still there."

"Oh, well, I think it's a bit _more _than friendship if you ask me, but no one's making a move yet."

"Oh, that's a shame. Listen, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Sure, anything."

"There was a protest in Lawrence on Saturday, right?"

"Yes. Helluva mess for the cops, I'll tell you that."

"And I hear there was a man there wearing a mask."

"Yes."

"What did he look like otherwise?"

"Well, apparently he had bright red hair. Really short. Really muscular."

"..."

"Adrian?"

"Yes? Sorry, I was just thinking. Listen, if he's spotted again, call me. And if he causes any more problems, catch him immediately. I want him questioned, and I want him under _my _watch."

"Sure, no problem. Lord knows we don't need any vigilantes around. No offense."

"Ha! None taken. I gave that up years ago. Well, I'll talk to you later then."

"Sure. Good-bye, Adrian."

"Good-bye."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Check out my update in "The Night's Journal"; I'm surprisingly quite proud of it :) Please review!


	24. Twenty Four

NOTE: This chapter requires the song "Don't Slow Down" by Matt & Kim for the fight scene between Rylie and Eddie. Thank you :)

24. Baby, Don't Start a Problem

_**Rylie**_

It's about a week after my reconciliation with Walter that an impatience begins to grow in me. At first I'm not sure exactly what it is, but then as we continue to train it becomes clear- I want to be a vigilante, and I want to be a vigilante _now._

I can tell that Eddie shares the same yearning; we tell each other this with just a glance. But what I know we also know is that Walter will never go for it. He keeps making a point of saying that we're going well, but we're nowhere near close enough, as if he can read into our fidgety behavior and see the impatience burning beneath. It frustrates me, but I haven't been able to bring it up with Walter at all, mainly because I don't want him want him to give me that "Cadence-you're-such-an-idiot" look I've come to recognize.

It's on a Friday night that I finally decide to broach the subject. Ever since the night Walter had snuck in through my window and ended up helping me with the Rube Goldberg machine (which I got an A on), he'd made it a habit of his to drop in at around midnight to give me a report of his patrol and, as he put it, "check to make sure I wasn't about to kill myself over a project I procrastinated on".

Whenever he drops in, he always seems to be grumpier at the beginning, right after taking off his mask. There are some nights where he doesn't take it off at all. Most of me doesn't like those nights.

But there is another part of me, a smaller part, that is fascinated by this side of him that I barely get to see. And when I'm around this side of him, it's almost easier to tell his true emotions than when he's not wearing his mask. It's strange.

Of course, it's also easier for his mood to affect mine then so it's not usually pleasant, but I still find it fascinating. Like a tornado that's bearing down on you and you just can't find the will to look away.

On this night, however, I don't want him to wear his mask. I want him calmer, more even-headed. More willing to cooperate.

So when he comes in through my window, dressed in his trenchcoat and purple pants and still wearing his mask, my heart drops in disappointment. I try not to let it show on my face as he comes over to sit on the side of my bed. "Hey, there, Mr. Bigshot. Catch any good bad guys lately?" I ask him quietly.

"No such thing as a 'good bad guy'. Oxymoron," he replies. That's another thing. He doesn't speak like normal, either. It's strange, but almost familiar to me in a way I can't explain.

"Right," I reply, nodding. His stenchy odor washes over me and I grimace. Why can't he just take a shower? It always smells worse when he's in costume, a combination of sweat and grime and what I'm pretty sure is blood that he's just never bothered to wash off.

And then, slowly, he peels off his mask, as though reluctant to do so, and passes his hand over his hair a few times to unflatten it. Then he looks at me, and his blue eyes almost seem to lighten while I stare at them, as though they were darker before he took off the mask. "There's something you want to talk to me about," he says.

I blink at him, completely caught off guard. He shrugs. "I can tell, Cadence," he answers my unspoken question. "So what is it?"

Well...He _seems _calm enough, willing to at least _listen. _"Well...Okay. Here it goes," I begin. "You know, we've been training for quite a while now-"

"Two months," Walter interrupts sharply, as though he already knows where this is going.

"Right, but we've been training a lot within those two months and I was just wondering-"

"No. You're not ready yet," he interrupts again.

"Aw, come on!" I exclaim. I'm well aware how whiny I sound but it's late and I just don't care. "You have been training us hard constantly and we have been getting stronger all the time. Look! Look at these muscles!" I lift my arms and flex the muscles that haven't been there since I was a dancer.

"Yes, you've improved greatly," Walter admits grudgingly. "But you don't understand how physically- and mentally- trying this job is. You've never done it before."

"And if I don't get started now, it could be too late to do any good!" I protest.

Walter glares at me. "Cadence, you're not ready. I have to go," he says shortly and stands up. I cross my arms and lean back against the pillows, burning with frustration. Walter looks back at me and sighs, softening slightly. "You'll be a vigilante someday. Just not today."

"Whatever," I growl, not looking at him. He sighs again. I wait a few moments before looking back up, and when I do he's already gone, silent as the night.

_**Rorschach**_

Blood splashes face as I tear into man beneath me. Others lying around, unconscious or dead. Darkness lies thick around us, long suffocating sheets wrapped around our necks. The dark is a noose, hanging us all.

Sound behind me. Footsteps. Creak of boards. Whip around, throw man's body onto approaching attacker. Both fall back against far wall with sickening thud. Gun skitters across floor to me. Step past it and lean down to watch man struggle underneath other man's body. Looks up at me, fear in his eyes. I curl my lip with distaste. All of them are the same. No morals, no strength. Nothing but fear and greed and sin. All of them will crumble into ashes under my fire, weak as they are.

Grab the man's head in my hands. He struggles. Twist his head. Loud pop reverberates in my ears. Body flops for a moment before he is still. Watch the blood trickle slowly from his lips, glazed eyes staring up at the ceiling.

No. Cadence couldn't handle this. Not yet.

_**Rylie**_

"So I talked to Walter last night," I say to Eddie while we eat lunch together. Emmi, Jimmy, and Damien have joined us. We're the only ones who ever eat lunch outside. It never ceases to amaze me.

"Oh, yeah? You two gossiping about me again?" Eddie replies, his mouth full.

"Must you always talk with food in your mouth?" I ask him, giving him a disgusted look and then shaking my head. "And, no. We don't believe in talking about people behind their backs, so we talk about you while you're around."

Eddie nods. "I knew it."

"No, actually, I asked him about becoming...well, becoming what we want to become," I explain with a quick glance at Emmi. She's the only one in our group who doesn't know what's going on. All she knows is that we always meet with Walter after school at my house. She looks back at me suspiciously but I don't stop to explain anything to her. She's a bit too faint-hearted for this kind of stuff.

"Oh, yeah? And what did he say?" Eddie inquires, but from his voice it sounds like he already knows.

"I bet you can guess," I reply, rolling my eyes.

Eddie throws down his fork in agitation. "You know, we're not children. We're mature-"

"_You're _mature?" Jimmy interrupts, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...Okay, so we can be mature when we need to be, and that's what counts. We're almost eighteen for crying out loud!" he exclaims.

"Yeah, I know. But he won't budge," I mutter.

"Well, what if we demonstrate to him how much we've learned?" Eddie asks after a pause.

"How so?"

"Well...what if we have our own sparring session," he says and then, with a glance toward Emmi, adds, "Per se."

I think for a moment. "Yeah, that might work...When should we do it?"

"As soon as possible."

"Tonight?"

"Sure. If you're ready, that is," Eddie says, giving me a devilish grin.

I narrow my eyes and glare back at him. "Anytime, Edward," I reply.

"Well, I'm staying out of it," Damien announces. Eddie and I look at him in astonishment and he holds up his hands. "Don't get me wrong, I want to be a...you know...But I don't think I'm ready yet. I want to ease into it gradually," he explains.

"Yeah, I'll wait, too," Jimmy agrees and then adds quickly, "But not because I don't think I'm ready. I could do it right now if I wanted to, but I want to start it with my man."

Eddie shrugs. "Okay. Guess it's just you and me then," he says to me.

"Yep. Let's just hope Walter sees sense this time."

_~r.~_

After dinner that night, Eddie and I send Walter out to the shop ahead of us while we get ready to spar with each other.

"Okay, so, I think we should lay out some rules before we start this thing," Eddie says, pulling off his shoes.

"Alright. What's the terms and conditions?" I reply, wrapping my hands.

Eddie stops and looks at me. "What are you doing?" he asks cautiously.

I blink at him, confused. "Wrapping my hands...?"

"We're gonna hit each other?"

I give him a look. "No, I thought we'd tickle each other. Of course we're gonna hit each other!"

He makes a face. "Aw, but you hit hard," he complains.

"So do you!"

"Yeah, but I don't know if I can hit _you..._"

"Eddie, you have been punching me since we were two. I think I can handle it."

"Oh, fine. But we better be wearing gloves. I am _not _going to let you ruin this perfect face," he mutters.

I laugh. "Oh, God forbid I fuck up your handsome features."

"You better not. Now. Ground rules. No hits to the face. No groin shots."

"Aw, damn."

Eddie glares at me but continues. "No drawing blood if we can help it. And we each have ten seconds to get back to our feet or we lose."

"Completely down?"

"Yeah. Gloves are out in the shop, right?"

"Yeah. You ready?"

"Ready to kick your ass."

"Ha! You mean _kiss _my ass."

"Well, I wouldn't mind a piece of that..."

"Eddie!"

When we head out to the shop, Walter has already started working out. He is going after the punching bag in a steady rhythm that has me pulsing with jealousy. When am _I _going to have that kind of control?

He stops when he sees us, sweat already dripping down his face from his bright red curls. I blink, feeling a strange flush run through me. He raises an eyebrow at us questioningly. "You want to start out on the bag first?" he inquires curiously.

"No. Actually, we wanted to show you something," Eddie replies calmly and then looks at me. I throw him a pair of fingerless gloves and he straps them on.

Walter narrows his eyes, instantly suspicious. "What?"

Neither of us reply. Eddie looks at me inquiringly. I nod and he nods back. We start to circle each other, keeping our eyes trained on each other. Walter watches silently a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, an expression of impatience on his face.

Eddie strikes first and I raise my arm to meet him. His right arm arcs around toward my side and I twist away, shoving his left arm away and kicking at his stomach. He leans back just in time but brings his fists down on my leg, unbalancing me and sending me falling to my knees. He kicks out in a swooping arc, keeping his foot level with my shoulder. Quickly, I duck underneath, bending so far backward that my head touches the floor. His foot slices across just a few inches above my nose.

The blood pulses strongly through my veins, keeping me moving. I somersault to the left and leap to my feet, then hop backwards when I see Eddie's fist swinging toward me. We twist and twirl around each other through the shop, exchanging blows, feinting and attacking, continually switching from offensive to defensive.

Eventually, after fighting for what seems like forever, Eddie manages to grab ahold of my arms. He grins across at me and begins to force me back, pushing forward and bending me back to try and force me to the floor. Snarling, I stretch forward and grab the front of his shirt in my fists. Then, using all of my strength, I twirl around and throw us both into a pile of tools and car parts with a startling crash.

We roll around on the floor in the mess we've made, throwing punches and wrestling and laughing foolishly. Part of me knows that this display is not mature by any means and that Walter won't be impressed, but another part of me knows that Eddie and I fought well up until this point, so he damn well better be impressed by that.

Finally, Eddie manages to pin me down. I struggle to get free but he's stronger than me. He grins down at me. "Almost ten seconds, Rylie," he teases. I glare up at him, curling my lips in a snarl, and he laughs.

"Alright. Let her up," Walter says from behind us.

Eddie grimaces and rolls his eyes but stands up, pulling me up with him. I look at Walter expectantly. He stares back at me, expressionless. I purse my lips after a moment impatiently. "Well?" I demand.

"Well what?" Walter responds.

"_Well _what did you think of us?" I elaborate.

He continues to stare at us for a moment thoughtfully. "You two were good," he admits. Eddie and I grin at each other excitedly. "But you weren't great," Walter continues. The smiles fade from our faces.

"_What? _How were we not great? I don't understand what it is you want from us!" I exclaim, outraged.

"What I want?" Walter repeats and then narrows his eyes. "I want a little maturity. I want to know that you two can handle yourselves out on the streets. Your display was nice. But you were both wearing gloves. You obviously had some rules in place as I saw you avoided hitting each other in certain places. You both fell apart completely at the end. You're not ready."

"Oh, come on, we were just having a little fun there at the end. No biggie," Eddie protests.

"How can I be sure you two won't do that on patrol?" Walter counters immediately.

"We won't! We're not stupid," Eddie retorts. "And as far as the whole wearing gloves and having rules thing goes, that's just because we don't want to hurt each other."

"Will criminals stop to put on gloves just so they won't hurt you?"

"No, but-"

"Will criminals reason with you to make rules on how you fight?"

"_No, _but-"

"You're both ready when I _say _you're ready. End of discussion," Walter snaps and heads back to the punching bag without another word. Eddie and I stare at each other, mouths open in shock, and then we dejectedly follow Walter to start on yet another repetitive training session.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I know this wasn't a very exciting chapter but the next one will be, I promise! Please review :)


	25. Twenty Five

NOTE: This chapter requires an instrumental called "Edward at Her Bed" by Carter Burwell for the very last scene of this chapter where Rory and Rylie talk. And, yes, it is from the Twilight soundtrack but it's very beautiful.

25. My Shoes Are Muddy (And That's Supposed to be _My _Fault?)

_**Rylie**_

Eddie and I are walking downtown on Saturday when I'm hit with a catalyst.

"...So now he's still tryin' to climb down the ladder, the dog's havin' a seizure, I've got half a pie left," Eddie is telling me when two men tumble out of the store in front of us, brawling heavily.

Both of us jump back, startled. Eddie immediately steps in front of me, holding onto my sleeve as if he expects me to leap into the fight myself. Other people start spilling out of the store, trying to pull the two men apart.

I look at Eddie questioningly and he shrugs. Then the two of us step toward the fight and leap into action. Eddie goes for the man on the left; I go for the man on the right. Reaching out, I grab the man's arm right as he throws his fist toward the other man's jaw. He is so surprised it's almost too easy to snap his arm down and twist it around behind his back, jamming it up against his spine.

The man tries to twist around, grabbing at me with his other hand, but I quickly shove him forward into the wall of the store. His face slams into the stone, and the expression on his face is so comically surprised I almost have to laugh.

Behind me, I hear Eddie arguing loudly with the other man but I can't turn around to see what's happening.

"Dude. Just stop struggling, you're embarrassing yourself," I hear Eddie say.

"Get the fuck off me! This doesn't concern you!" the man screams back.

"You're waking the neighbors!" Eddie snaps back and I laugh.

"Nice _Step Brothers _reference," I holler to him over my shoulder.

He laughs. "Thanks!"

"Will you two just get the fuck outta here?" the man in Eddie's possession snaps.

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. You two need a little timeout," Eddie replies.

"What the fuck are you supposed to be anyway?"

"Vigilantes," Eddie answers smugly.

My heart nearly stops in my chest. I want to turn around and stare at him in shock, ask him just what he thinks he's doing, but with the man I'm holding I can't do that. I can feel the eyes of the people around us boring into my skin. For an irrational second, I despair that I'm going to be stuck here forever.

And then the manager of the store comes out, flanked by two police officers. Quickly I duck my head and look away as one of the officers pulls the man from my grasp. I am burning with hatred for the cop, but this time I know I must let him go.

"Stay there," the cop tells me. "I want a statement from you."

The cops drag the men to their car, and while they're gone, Eddie and I look at each other. We don't say anything, we just start running. If anyone sees, they don't give us away. When we're at a safe distance from the police, we stop and rest in a narrow alley behind a dumpster. The smell kind of reminds me of Walter when he comes back from patrol, and I wrinkle my nose.

"Shit, man," Eddie mutters, shaking his head. "Can't believe we just did that."

Remembering what Eddie had said before, I whip my head up and glare at him. "Yeah. I can't believe you just did that, either," I growl.

He blinks at me. "Huh?"

"You said we were vigilantes. You told them we were vigilantes and we didn't even have disguises on!" I fume. Doesn't he understand what that means? That if anyone from the crowd happened to take a picture or recognize us, not only will _we _be in danger but our _families _will be in danger?

"So?" Eddie replies.

"So you're not a vigilante, first of all!" I shriek.

"Eh, so what if I'm not?" Eddie says, shrugging.

I gape at him. "'So what?', you said you are! Don't you understand what that means for anybody associated with us?"

"Rylie, calm down. I don't think they took me seriously. And even if they did, none of them knew us," he says.

"But, Eddie-"

"_And_, didn't you see how none of the people told the cops we were running away? They saw us run away and they didn't say anything. They were _protecting _us. Why would they protect us and then give us away?" he tells me in a soothing, slightly triumphant voice.

I bite my lip, uncertain. He does have a point, but what if one of the witnesses decides to talk anyway? We'd be in deep shit if they did...

"Besides, wasn't that such a rush?" Eddie continues, and when I look at him, his blue eyes are gleaming with undiluted excitement. "I mean, we were so badass!"

"Eddie, we stopped two guys from fighting. I don't really think this makes us badass by any means," I reply, rolling my eyes, but underneath the sarcasm I can still feel the memory of the adrenaline in my bloodstream.

"Oh, whatever, you loved it and you know it," Eddie retorts, elbowing me in the ribs and grinning.

And that was the catalyst. That whole moment. I decided I wasn't going to wait for Walter's permission. I was going to be a vigilante.

_~r.~_

I head out that same night. I cover my face with a cloth mask I'd made right after I'd gotten home, and dress all in black. I haven't really had time to think of a costume, or of a title, but I figure that can come later.

As I climb out my window and down the tree (keeping extra quiet because Eddie is spending the night and is currently asleep in my room), I'm already going over the plan again in my head. I will avoid all of the places I know Walter will be going. He's dropped in and told me of his patrols so many times now that I almost have the route memorized. He travels in a circle downtown; if I can hit the places directly opposite of where he'll be, everything will run smoothly.

I've decided not to tell Eddie. Much as I want him with me right now, I want to prove I can be a vigilante on my own. And then later I can rub it in Walter's face.

When I'm finally downtown, I think of all the times Eddie and I snuck out in New York. We had never found anything except for that first time, when we'd run back home, scared out of our wits. I narrow my eyes. I vow to myself that I _will _find something tonight, and I _won't _run home scared this time.

After a while, though, I've started to lose hope that I'll find anything. The night seems dark but peaceful, quiet, and whenever I think I'll find someone lurking in the shadows it just turns out to be a garbage can or an old box.

And then as I'm walking past yet another dark alley, someone grabs my arm and whirls me away. I gasp and turn on the person immediately, lashing out with my fist. It slams into their neck- not exactly where I was aiming but good enough- and they let me go with a strangled gasp. Stumbling backwards, I see that there is more than one man here with me- there are five. And they are all looking at me dangerously.

I take a step away from them and my back presses into the wall of the alley. I am surrounded. That's when the adrenaline starts to kick in. I narrow my eyes and glare back determinedly at my attackers. And then I lunge toward them.

Some people say that when they're in a tight situation like this, time slows down. Well, that's not true. At least for me it wasn't. Everything sped up, and my body sped up in response to keep up with the increase.

The first man I hit went down pretty easily; I bodyslammed him and we both fell to the ground. But as I was drawing back my fist to deliver the first punch, someone else grabbed my wrist and wrenched it backward. I let out a little yelp of pain and instinctively bent the rest of my body backwards to prevent him from breaking that wrist.

Which was a bad idea, because then the man laid a knife to my throat.

As I'm laying there, bent in half below a man who is caressing my neck with the blade of a knife, I think of Walter. I want to tell him I'm sorry that I went out tonight, that I _am _stupid. I want to see him again before I die. I feel tears prick my eyes, knowing I won't be able to.

And then I start to think of what he would say if _he _held the knife against my throat, as if this were just another lesson he was teaching in a training session.

"Lean back and grab the knife with your other hand."

And that's what I do. The blade cuts into my palm but I barely feel it. And at least it's not my throat the knife is cutting into. I try to pull the knife away but the man has a firm grip on it, so I dig my nails deeply into his knuckles. Blood seeps in under my fingernails but I don't quit digging until he finally lets go, howling in pain. The knife drops into my hand and I roll backwards, head over heels, until my feet touch the ground and I can hop into a standing position again.

Another man is coming at me. I wave the knife at him, forcing him to hop backwards. But from behind me, someone wraps their arms around my waist, managing to encircle my arms and press them to my sides so I can't move them. I struggle to get free but the man holds me tightly against him.

"Don't fight now, dollface," he whispers in my ear. "We're gonna give you enough of a workout later."

Two men are approaching in front of me. The one on the left reaches for me and I kick him right in the nuts. He doubles over in pain, but before I can do anything else the man on the right punches me in the stomach. Pain explodes inside of me, and I double over, too. For a moment, my vision fuzzes and all I want to do is puke; that's all I can concentrate on.

And then I feel hands on my thighs, fingers in the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down. My eyes fly open with horror and I forget the pain in my stomach. _No! _my mind screams. With a feral shriek, I stab the knife backwards into the ribs of the man holding me. He lets go immediately and I kick out at the man with his hands down my pants. My heel hits him in the jaw and sends him to the ground.

I stand there for a moment, aching and gasping for air, and I see that these men are still coming at me. The two from before and the man who's jaw I'm almost certain I've dislocated. They all step toward me, eyes blazing, lust and anger and darkness in their eyes. I crouch into a fighting position, although I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up.

And then, out of nowhere, two blurred forms leap in front of me, tackling the men mid-lunge. I stand there, completely frozen in shock for a moment, until I see who the forms are. Walter, still in costume, and Eddie. Together, the two of them are whirlwind of action. I am fascinated by the way they fight together- both fierce, both aggressive, driving against the men instead of simply holding their ground.

Quicker than I could have imagined, the fight is over. The men are all lying on the ground, either simply unconscious or- the more likely option- dead. Eddie hurries over to me immediately while Walter checks to make sure none of the men are going to sneak up on us.

"What happened?" Eddie murmurs, running his hands frantically over me. "Where are you hurt?"

"My hand," I say numbly, showing him my bleeding palm. My stomach is what hurts the worst but I don't think there's anything I can do about that.

"Give it to me," Eddie orders and I lay my hand in his, palm still facing up. He pulls his shirt up over his head and presses it to the deep cut to staunch the bleeding.

Behind him, I see Walter turn to look at me. And I can feel the burning fury practically steaming off of him as he slowly approaches. I want to sink into the wall behind me but, as I can't do that, I settle for curling in closer to Eddie. Though I can't see Walter's face under his mask, I can picture the rage on his face all too clearly in my head.

"What were you thinking?" he hisses and it's like steam escaping. I flinch away from him, wanting to disappear. When I don't answer, he quivers and spits, "Fool! Could've gotten yourself killed! Dangerous! You damn idiot!"

I tremble, scared speechless. I have never seen Walter quite this angry. Even when Eddie and I had lied and told him I was pregnant. Not even then. I have never seen him so furious. I'm almost afraid he's going to hit me.

"I-I was just t-trying to-"

"Don't. Say it," Walter interrupts, speaking through his teeth.

So I don't. I stay obediently quiet while Eddie finishes mopping up the blood from my hand. When I look up at Walter again, he is looking away. I can feel his anger hasn't cooled in the slightest, but he has it under control now. It's like he's one of those Everlasting Gobstoppers- except on the inside he's hot and raging, and on the outside he's cold and immovable.

He looks at me, I don't have to see his face to know it, and then he turns to Eddie and says, "Take her home. Make sure she stays there." His voice is dead cold.

For once, Eddie looks as if he's in total agreement. He nods to Walter and then turns to me. "C'mon, get up," he mutters and pulls me to my feet. I stand unsteadily, feeling as though I'm going to collapse. The aftermath of the adrenaline has me shaky on my feet, and my fear of Walter's fury isn't helping matters.

We walk away from Walter without turning back. In truth, I'm scared to. I can still feel the unimaginable rage pulsing off of him, although the further we get from him the weaker it gets until it's almost non-existant.

When we get back to my house, Eddie almost has to carry me up the tree and in through my window, but I make it. My legs quivering under me, I collapse onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. Everything around me feels numb. My body is shaking. My stomach is twisting in pain. I wonder if I'm going into shock.

Eddie sits next to me and lays a hand on my shoulder. "That was incredibly stupid, I hope you know that," he growls, and his voice is just as furious as Walter's but it's softer, too. Eddie's not as scary as Walter is.

I nod. "I know," I agree. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going."

"It was stupid of you not to," Eddie replies, nodding. "Why didn't you?"

I shrug. "I'm not really sure. Guess I just wanted to prove I could do it on my own."

Eddie snorts. "Guess you took two steps backward there, didn'tcha?" he teases.

I sigh and nod in agreement, looking down and suddenly feeling the reality of what I've just done come crashing in on me. "There's no way Walter will let me be a vigilante now," I mumble, feeling tears sting my eyes. My stomach continues to hurt, now churning with apprehension.

"I'd like to see him stop you," Eddie murmurs, scooting closer to me and brushing his fingers through my hair. Instinctively, I cuddle closer to him.

After a while, Eddie sighs and stands up. "I should get some peroxide on that cut," he says. He's about to leave when he stops in the doorway and turns to me. "You know, you're really lucky they didn't do what I think they were going to do," he says in a stern voice. His eyes are dark and dangerous, and I can almost see what he would like to do to the men who had attacked me.

He leaves the room, and I stare after him with wide, terrified eyes. The reality of the situation sinks in- they could have easily raped me, or killed me, or both. My stomach churns one last time before I lean over my bed and vomit.

_**Rorschach**_

Wait until Eddie and Cadence have left before I drag all five men to warehouse. Long walk, but it's worth it. Tie them all up when we get there. Men are so heavily unconscious that they don't wake up until long after I've gotten them to destination.

First man that wakes up sees me sitting in front of him patiently. Blinks in confusion, groggy. Blood caked on his face from cut on forehead and split lip. Jaw looks dislocated. Didn't do that myself. Cadence must have. Almost smile but catch myself. Could've gotten herself killed. Nothing to be proud of.

Man starts to realize he's not where he should be. Starts to look at me and remember me. He begins to yell, waking other men. All join in to help him make a racket. Watch them for a while and then stand up, approaching them. Look up at me and keep yelling. I raise my fist and strike the man with the dislocated jaw across the face.

All of them fall silent. Have their full attention now.

Burning anger inside of me builds like inferno, threatening to devour. Lusting for blood, for murder, it rises up and zeroes gaze in on men. _Kill all of them, _monster inside of me says. More than willing to obey.

"The girl," I say; monster is in my voice, too, and they can hear it. "Planning to rape her. Planning to murder her. Worthless _fucking _scum." Let the dirty word roll out of me, fall off my tongue. Worst word to describe worst men. Seems fitting.

"Please, man. We're-we're _sorry. _Is she yours?" one of the men snivels. Tears dribble down his cheeks. Blubbering fool. Disgusting. "I-if she was, y-you can have her. W-we had no right, man, we're sorry. Just...just let us go!"

All of a sudden, am filled with fiercest desire to protect, to avenge. Cadence _is _mine. Beast inside of me claims her, possessive, disturbingly so. Bend down till eyes are level with the man's. "Yes, she is mine. And yes, you had no right. Must be punished," I snarl.

"No, no, man, you've punished us enough! We learned our lesson!" the man pleads, trembling.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "There's much more you need to learn." Then I grab man's hand and bend back his fingers, one by one. Screams split the night with each snap. When done with one hand, move to the next. Slow, steady process. Fire burns stronger with each break. Beast howls for blood.

When all ten fingers are broken, man slumps back, eyes rolling in head, nearly passed out from pain. "No, no," I growl, slapping him across face. Bleary eyes blink up at me, desperate, pleading. "Not done yet," I tell him.

Grab his wrist and bend it backwards. Man screams again, louder now. Smile underneath protection of my face. Will break every bone in his body if necessary. But he must feel pain of his punishment in every pore until he welcomes hell with open arms.

_**Rylie**_

It's almost dawn. I can see the sky brightening slowly outside my window. Eddie is asleep on the floor next to my bed. And I am wide awake, staring blindly into the ceiling, seeing nothing but the fight. A thought has occurred to me in the night, so startling, so sickening, that at first when I'd thought of it I'd almost threw up again.

Walter or Eddie could have been killed tonight, and it would have been _my _fault.

This thought has kept me awake all night. This thought has had my stomach in knots and my heart in my throat for hours. I keep repeating the fight in my head, seeing everything through clearer eyes. Hindsight _is _20/20 after all. And imagination...well, it's even clearer. I keep seeing Walter take one step in the wrong direction and get impaled by a knife, seeing Eddie leap to protect me and have some man crush his throat.

It's terrifying. Even though none of the things I'm imagining happened, simply thinking of them makes me shake with fear. As though imagining them happening will make them happen.

When I can see the sun peaking over the rim of the horizon, I get up and leave. I sneak quietly across the floor like before, but there is no edge of excitement to me now. There is only the guilt and the need to get away from it. If I run, maybe I can leave everything that's eating me up inside behind.

My feet touch the ground once I've descended from the tree and I'm off running immediately. I don't know where I'm going and I don't care. I just let my feet do the guiding while I concentrate on not concentrating. Above my head, stormclouds start to gather, blocking out the light of the rising sun, and by the time I reach the forest behind my house, the rain has started to fall.

_**Rorschach**_

When I get to Cadence's house, it's a little after dawn. I've finished with the men, all of them now dead, their bodies floating somewhere down the Kansas River. It still brings fire into my chest to even think of what they were going to do to her.

Climbing through her window, I immediately notice that she's not in her bed. I feel a brief flare of panic, and then I shake my head. _Someone's snoring, _I tell myself and then blink. _Although I've never heard Cadence snore this loudly before._

Looking down at the source of the sound, I realize that it's not Cadence at all- it's Eddie. I narrow my eyes, feeling a different kind of heat rise up in me- different, but just as angry. And then I realize what this means: Cadence is not here.

Quickly, I march over to Eddie and kick him in the side. "Wake up!" I snap.

He jumps up immediately, startled out of sleep, and then glares up at me. "Hey, man, what the hell do you think you're doing-"

"Cadence is gone," I growl, cutting him off.

Eddie snorts. "No she's not, she's right there," he replies and points to the bed. Then he blinks and turns back to me when he realizes she's not there. "Oh..." he says. I give him an "Oh, really?" look and he rolls his eyes. "She probably just went to the bathroom or something. Look, just sit here, I'll find her, calm down," he assures me and then walks out the door, muttering something about impatience.

When he gets back, though, there is worry in his eyes. "I couldn't find her," he says.

"Where could she have gone?" I wonder out loud, feeling my heart start to race. Surely she didn't try to go out on patrol again?

"Well, look, man, she couldn't have gotten far. I woke up at around five and she was still here. I'll check the woods to the west and you check the woods to the east, okay? I don't think she would've gone back into town, so we should check here first," Eddie says.

I prickle a little with irritation at the fact that he's giving me orders but I don't argue. Quickly, we race outside, using the front door this time, and then head in opposite directions. It is raining heavily now, pouring down so hard that I can't see very far in front of me. I'm soaked in seconds and a tiny part of me wonders randomly how it can rain so much in a place that's supposed to be perpetually dry.

It's a long way out to the woods in the east but I finally get there, alert for tracks or any other sign that Cadence could have passed this way. I travel along the western rim of a deep creek cutting through the forest, glancing up every so often to make sure I don't run into a tree.

I'm starting to lose hope when I see her down in the creek below me. She's a few feet ahead, her back to me, walking with her hands in her pockets and her feet in the stream. Ignoring the mud seeping into my shoes, I slide down into the creek with a small splash and hurry over to her.

"Hey!" I call to her. She doesn't turn and I don't think she's heard me. Narrowing my eyes, I jog the rest of the distance between us and grab her shoulder. "Hey!"

She jumps and whips around, instantly in a fighting stance, her eyes filled with terror and determination. When she sees it's me, they open wide with shock. "What are you doing here?" she hisses while rain falls down her cheeks like tears.

"Looking for you," I growl, feeling the anger in my chest burn at her tone.

"Just leave me alone," she mutters and turns away. I grab her shoulder, pulling her back, and she shrugs out from under me. I grab her again and she turns sharply, shoving my arm away. "Get off!" she snaps, glaring at me.

"You're coming with me," I reply, grabbing her arm.

"Hey, get off of me!" she growls, leaping at me. We both go tumbling into the stream. Water splashes up over my face, filling my mouth and nose for a second. Cold mud presses into my back as we both sink in deeper. She throws punches at me and I try to block them, but the water keeps spilling in over my eyes, blurring my vision. Finally, I surge upward and roll over so Cadence is on the bottom, and we continue like this for a few minutes, rolling around in the stream, wrestling with each other furiously.

Then, after a while, Cadence's moves become slower, less deliberate, until she finally just stops and sits away from me. She is dripping wet from head to toe and smeared with mud; I'm sure I look about the same and I'm glad I decided to change out of costume before coming here.

Long moments pass between us, completely silent except for the rain, and then finally I decide to break it. "Cadence?"

Cadence doesn't reply for a moment and then she looks at me. Her eyes are suspiciously wet, and I fear for a moment that she will cry. "Walter...will you keep me from being a vigilante now?" she asks and her voice shakes.

I want to say yes. I want to say yes so badly just to punish her. But I know that if I do, eventually she will just try to do it on her own again, probably with worse results. And I don't want _that _on my conscience. So I sigh and shake my head. "No," I tell her reluctantly.

She blinks, silent for another moment, and then she says something that surprises me. "All I keep thinking about is how easily you could have died."

I draw back, staring at her. She stares back at me guiltily. "Cadence..." I say, shocked. "You don't think those men could've _killed _me, do you?"

She sniffs but no tears fall. Or maybe they do and I'm just mistaking them for raindrops. She looks down at the stream we're both still sitting in and shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe," she mutters.

"Cadence, this is my _job. _I've done this for years, it's what I do. And, quite frankly, you're lack of faith in me is a little insulting," I add, trying to make my tone joking.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide with despair. "But...if you had died for me, I don't...I couldn't even imagine..."

"But I didn't," I interrupt firmly and sigh, shaking my head. "Why is it you're so damn difficult?"

"_I'm _difficult?" she replies and I smirk.

"C'mon," I say, pulling her to her feet. "You're going to get sick out here. You should be in bed resting from your little adventure," I add, giving her a stern look. Although I can still feel the anger and the horrible, panicked feeling, I'm calm now. Cadence is safe. That's all that matters right now.

As we're walking back, Cadence glances down at her feet and gasps. "What?" I ask, alarmed.

"My shoes are muddy!" she exclaims and then glares at me accusingly.

"And that's supposed to be _my _fault?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, long chapter, I know, and the next one will be, too, but hopefully they are enjoyable ;) I am going to try and get this story finished (HOPEFULLY, cross your fingers!) by the end of this summer. Cuz once school starts I can guarantee I will not have as much time to work on this and I really want you guys to see the end product sooner rather than later. So that means faster updates! :D Anyway, please review!


	26. Twenty Six

NOTE: Okay, well, this chapter has a lot of fight scenes in it and, therefore, lots of music. The first song you will need is "Sink Into Me" by Taking Back Sunday for the first (and unplanned) fight between Rory and Rylie. Next, is the instrumental "Riley" by Howard Shore for Rylie's rescue scene (and you'll know what I'm referring to when you get there). Then, comes "Swimming in the Flood" by Passion Pit, although you'll know where that is without me telling you (and I guess you don't have to listen to it if you don't want). And then, for the last fight scene between Rory and Rylie, you will need "Army of Me" by Bjork. I know it's a lot of songs, sorry! *sheepish look* Even if you don't listen to anything else, please listen to "Riley". It's intense and I really think it sets the scene nicely.

26. Confront Me

_**Rylie**_

So I thought things were going to be okay between me and Walter after our little spat out in the woods. But, no. Things are tense again. And I'm sick of it. It's exhausting. It's like all of this tension between us is building up like a wall, and the more it builds the harder it is to break through. And we're training in the shop when this tension reaches its boiling point.

"Okay, can we take a break now. I'm thirsty as _hell!" _Jimmy complains loudly.

Walter snorts and rolls his eyes, but nods. "Five minutes," he says and wanders off to stretch while Jimmy, Damien, and Eddie head inside to get water. I lean against the workbench and watch Walter until he looks up. "You're not going with them?" he asks.

I shrug. "Nah, I'm not thirsty," I reply.

He narrows his eyes. "You need water, Cadence. You need to keep hydrated," he tells me sternly.

I glare at him; I don't like his tone. "I'm not thirsty," I repeat stubbornly.

"You just want to pretend that you're tougher than everyone else here," Walter snaps.

"Well, at least I _know _I'm tough! You like to pretend I'm incapable of doing anything! You treat me like a child!" I scream. We're in each other's faces now, having met each other in the middle of the shop.

"I don't treat you like a child and you know it! If anything, you _act _like a spoiled child when you don't get your way!"

"Well maybe if you would trust me, I wouldn't have to act that way!"

"This isn't about trust, Cadence, this is about life or death."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic!"

"Don't be such a brat!"

And then we leap at each other, simultaneously. Our bodies slam together so hard that I think we're both stunned for a second. And then we start to dance around each other, exchanging blows, our moves becoming quicker and more focused as the fight progresses. Suddenly the shop isn't big enough to hold both of us; it's as though everything has shrunk in on us. Walter steps back to avoid a kick to the face and his back slams into the A-frame. I duck to avoid being punched in the jaw and my elbow slams into the workbench.

Then things starting getting hairy. We start to move in a different way, practically flying across the room to get at each other. For a while, it almost _is _like a dance, a dangerous, violent dance. We are spinning around each other, throwing in hooks and jabs, trying to hurt each other, just letting our rage fly.

And then Damien has me by the shoulders and Jimmy and Eddie are pulling Walter back, holding onto his arms tightly. We both struggle for a long time against them, still trying to get at each other, when finally we just give up.

"Let me go," I mutter to Damien, glaring deliberately away from Walter, who is doing the same.

"How do I know you're not gonna go flying at him again?" Damien replies.

"Oh, will you just let me go?" I growl and shake him off, scowling. After a few moments, Eddie and Jimmy release Walter, too.

"I think you should leave," Eddie murmurs to him quietly.

Walter glares at him and then sniffs, turning away from us. "Good idea," he says through gritted teeth and heads for the door.

"You can't do this by yourself forever, ya know!" I holler after him. "At some point, you're gonna need help!"

"Just as long as it doesn't come from you," he replies and slams the door after him.

_**Rorschach**_

Rain falls steadily while I concentrate on cornering prey. Two men, gang members, enemies to Rob's gang. Into drugs, prostitution. Will dispose of them quickly.

Follow them into alley, silver and blue with rain and moonlight. Shadows all around me. Tense my body, feel my legs gather power under me. Prepare to leap...

But men disappear, one on either side, into shadows. Narrow eyes, instantly suspicious. That's when they appear, three in front, four behind. Gang members surround me. Feel rage alight in my chest- rage at the men, and rage at myself for falling into trap. Two men before were just bait. Stupid of me.

Turn slowly in a circle, glare challengingly at the men, and prepare myself to fight.

_**Rylie**_

The rain is falling hard, nearly blinding me as I run to Walter's warehouse. After our fight today, leaving it with no apology or reconciliation, the guilt kept gnawing away inside of me until I was forced to admit I would have to apologize to him if I were to have any peace. So tonight I'd told Eddie where I was going (because I didn't want a repeat of last time) and I had snuck out of my house to try and catch Walter before he'd headed out on patrol. I just hope I'm not too late.

When I skid into the warehouse, drenched from head to foot, I immediately know that he's not here. I know it because I can sense his anger a few blocks down. His anger and...there's something else...some sense of urgency underneath it all, hidden behind rage and bravado. I focus on it, zeroing in on the emotions until I can read steadily into the uncertainty. And it's clear. Walter's in trouble.

I'm ready to leap back outside into the rain and go searching for Walter, when something catches my eye. It is a shiny silver gun, laying on a wooden table to my left. Upon further inspection, I realize with a gasp that it's the grappling hook gun Eddie had gotten in trouble for using when we were kids.

Without any further thought, I grab the gun and race out into the night.

_**Rorschach**_

Leap into action without hesitation. First man falls like a domino, collapses under me like there's no strength in his legs. Someone grabs at my neck from behind. Roll until I'm holding first man above me. Other man's hands close around first man's neck and I can escape.

Two men rush toward me as I stand. Clutch onto closest man's jacket and swing him around into other man. Both fall to ground. Someone else jumps onto back. Flip over. Man goes flying to ground in front of me and my feet land on his chest. Reach down quickly and snap man's neck, then roll to the side to avoid kick to the face from another man. Grab that man's leg and break it, then toss him aside. He tumbles and skids through the rain like ragdoll.

Then men retreat. Narrow my eyes, keeping alert. Something is wrong. Shadows are close and hot despite the rain. Curl my lip and prepare to head after men.

And then suits step out of shadows and surround me, guns raised.

_**Rylie**_

The first time I use the grappling hook gun, I leave my stomach on the sidewalk below me. It's absolutely terrifying and I want to let go so badly, but my fingers clutch onto the gun for dear life. Then my feet touch the rooftop and my fluttering heart fills with relief. I stumble slightly but catch myself before I fall, and then I'm off flying again, racing across the rooftop to it's far edge.

The building next to it is slightly shorter than the one I'm on. I jump across the space between them without stopping to focus on the fear. Curling my body, I roll when I hit the other roof, then jump to my feet and race to the next rooftop, following Walter's emotions like a clear trail in front of me.

I'm just two blocks from him when the anger intensifies and nearly doubles me over, fueled by shock and uncertainty. I pick up the pace, stumbling along through the rain across rooftops. My heart beats fast in my chest. I hope I'm not going to be too late.

_**Rorschach**_

"Stop resisting arrest," one of the suits says, cocks his handgun. I don't flinch. Glare at him, silently challenge him to kill me. No fear in me. Empowering.

The suit rolls his eyes, impatient. "Look, you're making it harder on yourself than it needs to be," he says. "Take off your mask and put your hands in the air."

Stand stubbornly before him, body still tensed in a fighting stance. "No," I reply steadily.

The suit shrugs, unconcerned. "Fine. But you brought this on yourself," he says and levels gun at my chest.

_**Rylie**_

I am close. I'm less than a block away. Jumping across rooftops has become easier, less nerve-wracking if I just don't think about it. The grappling hook gun has become like another appendage in my hand. I can't feel my body and at the same time I can feel every part of me, down to the last nerve ending. It's the strangest feeling, and I know it's because of the urgency pulsing through me, the single-mindedly ferocious need to get to Walter and protect him. The adrenaline feels like blistering fire in my veins.

Then, jumping onto yet another rain-slicked rooftop, I can see it in my mind. Just one swift image. A suit standing in front of me, raising a gun. The vision is soaked in anger and defiance, and I know it comes from Walter.

He is down below this building. I can feel it.

Pushing myself to the absolute limit, I pick up the pace and go skidding over the edge of the rooftop into the alley below, as though sliding into home during a baseball game. The drop down to the ground isn't as terrifying as I'd expected it to be, mainly because the only thing on my mind is not _my _safety, it's his.

I land right behind him, our backs to each other, and I can't help feeling like a stud for a second. And then I see the predicament we're in and the arrogance disappears like fog under the sun. Ten suits encircle us, five on each side, with guns aimed straight for us. Suddenly I'm not so sure of myself, but I don't let it show.

"What are you _doing _here?" Walter hisses over his shoulder at me.

I grin back at him. "Thought you might like some help," I reply.

"Don't need your help," he spits back at me.

"That's not how it looks from where _I'm _standing," I whisper.

"You'll die with me!" he hisses, and I feel his anger like whiplash inside of me. I flinch and, for a moment, wonder what it will be like when they shoot me...

And that gives me an idea.

Quickly, I turn slightly in Walter's direction and whisper, "Okay, I have a plan but you're gonna have to just trust me. Just go with it, alright?" Walter doesn't reply, just nods slightly after a pause, so, without further hesitation, I whip around and press the grappling hook gun deep into his spine, making sure to keep the hooks out of view. "Got you now, motherfucker, don't I?" I hiss in a triumphant voice, loud enough for the suits to hear.

Walter stiffens, and the surprise that I feel is almost enough to make me laugh. But I keep the fierce expression on my face for the suits' benefit. One of them steps toward me. "What are you doing?" he demands.

"Stay out of this, dammit, this is between me and him!" I snap, throwing a snarly expression at him.

He narrows his eyes. "Please step away, ma'am, we have to take him into custody," he says.

"No, man, you just fuckin' leave him to me, okay? I got a bone to pick with him," I growl, returning my glare to the back of Walter's head.

"Ma'am, you have to step away now," the suit repeats, approaching me.

I whip around, hoping that I convey the right amount of craziness at him from my eyes. "Don't you come any closer, shitsmear, I swear I'll shoot _you _with this just as easily as I'll shoot _him," _I exclaim.

The suit stops. "Calm down, ma'am," he says, reaching out to me. "Give me the gun. I promise, we'll take care of him. Just give me the gun."

I watch him, pretending to deliberate. Slowly I begin to lower the gun and the suit reaches out to take it from me. The moment his hand touches the gun, I swing it up into his chin and the force of the impact sends him flying back. His own handgun flies from his hand and I catch it before it hits the ground. At the same time, Walter whips around and brings his foot up; I duck down, clutching onto both the handgun and the grappling hook gun, and his leg swings in a swift arc just above my head. When the toe of his shoe slams into the shoulder of another suit, I stand. Walter and I have switched places in one movement, our backs still pressed to each other, and all of sudden the suits aren't looking as confident as before.

I smile at them and raise my gun. They raise theirs, too and start firing. Walter and I duck down at the same time, and I roll foreward immediately after, lifting my arm and taking aim at the nearest suit. The first shot misses the suit by a few inches, but the second shot cuts through his shoulder. Blood splashes my face and I instinctively flinch back from it. But there's no time for me to worry about a little blood on me. Another suit takes aim at me and fires, and I just barely roll sideways out of the way in time.

Behind me, I hear gunshots peppering the air and each one makes my heart stop in my chest. But I can still feel Walter's ferocity in my mind and it reassures me that he's still alive.

A suit grabs my sleeve and tries to pull me to the side, pressing the muzzle of his gun to my forehead. But before either of us can do anything, Walter's hand comes down on the man's arm, knocking the gun away from my head. He turns to me and nods to the grappling hook gun. "Go now!" he snaps.

"Not without you!" I reply, turning to slam the butt of the grappling gun against another suit's temple.

"Fine," Walter snarls, grabbing me around the waist.

"Hey!" I protest, but Walter ignores me, reaching around to grab the gun and aim it up toward the roof above us. Before I can blink, we are soaring through the air up to the rooftop, with gunshots echoing behind us.

When we roll onto the rooftop, Walter stands immediately, grabbing my hand and yanking me to my feet. "C'mon," he mutters and leads me back across the rooftops.

He walks me home in the rain. Neither of us speak. Secretly I'm waiting for him to say he's sorry, or that he was wrong, or even a simple "thank you". But he says nothing and my irritation grows. He walks me right up to the tree below my window and then turns to me. "Get some sleep. Training tomorrow, same time, same place," he growls.

I gape at him. "What, you're not even gonna thank me for helping you?" I demand, outraged.

"Didn't need your help. Could've gotten yourself killed _again," _he replies.

I open my mouth, ready to start cursing him out, and then I realize it won't do any good. "Okay. Fine. Be an asshole. See if I help you next time," I mutter and climb the tree without another word.

Of course, I can't help glancing behind me as I climb in through my window. But Walter is already gone. I scowl. Figures.

_~r.~_

So Walter kept his word. He came to my house with Jimmy and Damien and Eddie, and we all trained. He didn't even say anything to me at all. It was as if nothing had happened. So I didn't speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary. I think the others thought it was because of our fight yesterday because they didn't question our silence. I wanted them to know the truth so badly but I wanted _Walter _to be the one to admit it to them.

"Okay. We're done here. Good work. I'll see you all tomorrow," Walter finally announces after a long, hard workout.

"Kay, man, thanks," Damien says, wrapping his arm around Jimmy, who blows a kiss in Walter's direction.

"See ya tomorrow, honey bunch," he crows. Walter curls his lip and turns away but doesn't say anything. Jimmy just laughs.

Eddie comes over to me before he leaves. "Hey, you wanna hang out after school on Tuesday?" he asks. Tuesday is our last day of school before the summer.

"Sure," I reply, shrugging. "Where do you want to go?"

"Eh, I don't care. We could go see 'Inception'. You said you really wanted to see that."

"Ooh, yeah, I do! It looks _amazing!" _I enthuse, smiling.

Eddie smiles back. "Great. Well, I'll meet you outside of the school then after finals."

I grimace. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm really not ready for that damn Latin final," I groan.

He makes a face. "Yuck," he says, nodding in agreement. "But at least we're not taking it next year."

"Thank God," I murmur fervently and then give him a quick hug. "See ya tomorrow."

"Yep. Later, babe," he replies and then walks out, his hands in his pockets, casually whistling some random tune.

When I look around, I realize that Walter has already left without saying anything, slipped out like a ghost. I scowl. "Frickin' asshole," I mutter, then sigh and turn on my ihome. The first song that comes on is 'Swimming in the Flood' by Passion Pit, and I immediately start singing along. Sitting down on a small bench, I start unlacing my shoes and unwrapping my hands.

It isn't until I hear someone clear their throat to get my attention that I look up. Walter is standing in the doorway, looking awkward and uncomfortable, as if he doesn't really want to be here. I narrow my eyes. "What are _you _doing here?" I demand.

He doesn't answer for a long time, and when he finally does, all he says is, "Passion Pit?"

I'm about to reply with a swift, sarcastic retort but I stop myself, reminding myself that Walter only avoids direct questions when he feels uncomfortable. So I remind myself to keep patient and swallow the sarcasm. "Yes. 'Swimming in the Flood'," I reply. "I love this song."

"It is good," Walter agrees, coming inside and standing a few feet from me. "I think 'Sleepyhead' is my favorite, though."

I can't help smiling. "Yeah, that's my favorite, too," I agree.

We fall silent then and just listen to the song, and inside I'm quietly wondering why we can't have times like this more often. Quiet times where there's no arguing or fighting or distractions. Just me and him.

But I haven't forgotten his awkwardness, and he hasn't forgotten it either, since toward the end of the song he starts fidgeting like crazy. Finally I turn to him. "Dude, would you stop twitching? It's making me nervous," I snap.

"Apologies," he murmurs and looks down at his feet. "Cadence, I just wanted to say...that I'm sorry...for my rude behavior last night," he says, still shifting from foot to foot. "I should have thanked you. I _am _glad of your help." His voice is soft, a quiet mumble, and I almost can't hear him.

I smile, letting go of my anger. "_Your welcome_," I reply fervently and he looks up. I shake my head in amazement. "Man, you are something else. Is it really so hard to thank somebody for helping you?" I tease.

He smiles slightly, looking relieved. "Yeah, most of the time," he replies, nodding.

"Well, maybe you should work on that."

He snorts. "Only for you, Cadence," he drawls.

"Aw, I'm flattered."

"Don't let it go to your head, Northpaw."

"Whatever you say, Brick Wall."

_~r.~_

So I'm hoping this new idea of mine will work out better than some of the old ones. Eddie has agreed to corner me, although I know this isn't going to be like a boxing match. I'm just hoping that if he corners me, some rules will happen to lay themselves out in the process and I won't get beaten down as hard as I'm imagining I will.

I stand just outside of the shop as Eddie heads in before me. "Walter," I hear him say.

"Yes, Edward?"

"Rylie has a proposition for you."

I can almost see Walter narrow his eyes in my head, and I giggle quietly. "What proposition?"

"She would like to show you that she's not the same naive little girl you bumped into on the street that fateful day in February," Eddie replies in a dramatic voice. I roll my eyes and then straighten as he continues. "Gentlemen and...gentlemen, I'd like to introduce the Patriot!"

I step into the shop, highly aware that all eyes are on me. I get the satisfaction of seeing Walter's eyes grow wide with surprise and I almost laugh. As it is, I _do_ smile at him. "What do you think?" I ask him shyly.

He doesn't reply for a moment, taking time to examining my new outfit. It's just something I'd thrown together at the last second, nothing really special. But it'll pass as far as costumes for now. It's a knee-length black and white sweater dress, form-fitting but breathable, that moved like a second skin on my body. Beneath them I wear the black skinny jeans that I'd borrowed from Jimmy and never returned, and the black stiletto boots he'd gotten me for Christmas that same year. And on my face is a black and white leather mask, much like the one I'd made for Walter.

"It's a bit showy," he finally replies quietly.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, but will it do?"

He shrugs, looking away. "As long as you don't mind looking like a whore," he mutters. Eddie stiffens but I just sigh exaggeratedly, knowing he doesn't really mean that. And if he does, I don't really care.

"Hey! Those are my jeans!" Jimmy exclaims, pointing accusingly at them.

I smile sheepishly at him. "I'll return them..." I promise weakly.

"Oh, keep them. Just know I hate you, bitch," he replies, waving his hand at me dismissively.

I roll my eyes but smile, then turn to Walter. He looks back at me, one eyebrow raised. "So. You want another chance to prove your worth, huh?" he says, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but this time I think the fight should be a little more...planned," I reply. Then I narrow my eyes and mirror his stance. "Plus I think I might have already proved my worth not that long ago," I add meaningfully.

Walter gives me a nod so small that if I hadn't been staring right at him I probably would have missed it, and I take that to mean that he's accepting my words. "Alright," he agrees. "We fight. I'll lay out some rules but not many. If you pass, then I will _consider _fighting you again _without _rules."

I grimace. I don't like the whole "consider" part of the deal, but at least he seems to finally be taking me seriously. "Okay, deal," I reply. "Now what are the rules?"

"We both wear gloves," he begins. "We can't use anything other than our own bodies- no makeshift weapons, nothing. And whoever pins the other to the ground for five seconds wins."

"Alright, sounds good. Eddie, hand me my gloves."

Eddie obeys, handing me the gloves with a smirk and a wink. "Give 'im hell, girlie," he says.

"She already does," Walter says as he straps on his own gloves. I glare at him and he smiles back at me in an insolent way.

"You still want me to corner you?" Eddie asks, simply a quiet murmur in my ear.

I shake my head. "This probably won't last very long," I tell him, watching the muscles move in Walter's chest and arms and biting my lip uncertainly. "You don't need to corner me. We'll probably be all over the place anyway."

He doesn't look convinced but he doesn't protest. "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

And so Jimmy, Damien, and Eddie all gather in a corner, far away from us, to watch. I stand on one side of the shop, Walter stands on the complete opposite, staring at each other. And then he nods to me. "Let's begin," he says and approaches me.

I walk toward him, feeling a calmness enter my chest like a cooling breeze on a summer day. It makes my limbs feel free and flowing, almost as if I'm made out of water. I stare Walter down, and he gives away nothing. I concentrate on doing the same.

And we begin. It starts off slow, us circling each other, just feeling each other out for a little while, getting a sense of the other's approach. We exchange quick jabs and soft blows, nothing too serious, feinting and backing off, then coming in quick and peppering in some punches.

Then Walter gets in a nice blow to my side, right in my liver, and I have to stop myself from doubling over in pain. I gasp and feint back to the side, remembering just in time to guard my face as he aims a punch at my jaw. My arm blocks his and I swing it around, then throw my own punch at his face. But it's with my left hand, so I'm slower, and Walter has time to duck to the side and swing his arm up. He thrusts it sideways, in the same direction my punch is headed, and with his strength and my own momentum, he manages to send me flying over his shoulder.

I land on my back and the breath is knocked out of me. For a moment, my head spins dizzily and my lungs fight the influx for air they can't gather. And then I catch my breath, and roll to the side, just in time to avoid Walter, who has lunged for me. When he lands, I swing my foot around and catch him in the shoulder, throwing him off balance. While he's down, I bring my fist up and strike it across his cheek. I hear Eddie cheer from the sidelines and I can't help smiling just a little.

And I learn quickly that I can't afford any distractions. Walter grabs my arm, tugs me down to his level, and strikes me across the face, too. Except _his _blow hits me right in the nose. It's not enough to break it, but I _do _feel the blood start spilling out almost instantly. I can taste it in my mouth as Walter takes advantage of the opportunity and forces me to the floor, pressing my arms tightly against the concrete.

He smiles down at me and cocks his head. "Done already, Cadence?" he inquires.

Feeling a surge of anger like energy, I snarl softly under my breath and summon all of my strength to rise up against him. With the force of my upsurge, both of us go rolling head-over-heels, locked in combative embrace. Somehow I'm able to swing my leg up over Walter's head and spin around, out of his grip. Stumbling to my feet, I turn back to him and quickly get back into my fighting stance. He stands and stares back at me, looking just as ready to fight as before. I feel a brief moment of doubt trickle in through my veins; I already feel exhausted, my body already feels bruised.

And then I have to duck as his fist swings around toward my face. I keep my face buried behind my fists so that when I straighten, I'm ready to block his next punch and deliver one of my own. But his southpaw stance is messing me up. I can only block him for so long until a blow finally slips in, so close to my stomach that for a moment I have flashbacks of the rapist punching me in the gut.

I hop quickly away, but he manages to get in another punch, this one to my head. It isn't very hard- I can tell he's holding back- but it's powerful enough to spin me around, tripping over my own feet. Panic alights in my chest. My control is quickly falling apart. _Get a grip, Rylie, _I tell myself, forcing myself to breathe in and out, calm myself down.

When I turn back to Walter, he launches his foot at my chest. Using my arm as a shield, I slap it away and while he's off balance I deliver a punch to his mouth. Even through the thick padding of the fingerless glove, I can feel his teeth graze my knuckles and I wince. The punch isn't strong enough to do any real damage but it does send Walter back a few steps. I use those few steps to my advantage, pummeling him with blow after blow. He successfully blocks all of them, but I'm forcing him back with the barrage of punches, overwhelming him.

But just when I think I can go in for the kill, Walter ducks down beneath me and rams into my stomach, driving me back and slamming me against the front of the lawnmower my dad keeps in here. Once again, the air is forced from of my lungs, driven out by the impact on my spine, and for a second I'm gasping like a fish out of water.

Walter draws his arm back, readying himself to deliver what looks to be a hard blow to my mouth. Quickly, not carrying that I haven't caught my breath yet, I drop to the floor and roll out from under him. He follows me with swift steps as I scramble to try and avoid him. His fist strikes down at me at the same time I am pushing myself up to my feet; I lean out of the way, grab his arm, and, using every ounce of strength in my muscles, throw him against the wall of the shop with a loud slam.

For a moment, he stands there, winded and trying to catch his breath. I know I should use this pause to my advantage, but I hesitate. If I go in sloppy (and I'm already tired, which isn't good), I know he can bring me down just like that. By the time I've decided to attack, he's already recovered, and as soon as I'm in range, he grabs me and throws me. I slam onto the hood of the lawnmower and skid across it, then land in a startled heap on the floor a few feet from it.

It takes me a few moments to recover. My arms shake when I push myself up. Through blurry eyes, I see Walter standing at the front of the lawnmower, watching me. I can't read the expression on his face. All I see are his muscles and the strength in them. Suddenly I don't want to do this anymore. But I must defend myself. There is no going back.

Walter strides to me. I fight the pain and exhaustion to try and get to my feet, but he is quicker. Looking up, I watch with horror as he heel comes down at me. Instinct takes over then; my hands flash out faster than I thought possible and grab his leg. The strength in him is enough to keep my arms trembling under the strain of holding his heel above my exposed side. Finally, I curl in on myself and kick my leg forward. It catches him in the knee and he drops back away from me.

Quickly I roll and hop to my feet. My knees shake under me and I will them not to collapse. I am unbelieveably hot and drenched in sweat; it feels as though every muscle in my body is quivering. Walter faces me and we begin the dance again. With each step we take, it gets faster, more erratic. It takes all of my strength and concentration to keep successfully blocking his well-aimed blows.

Then, finally, he tackles me, wrapping his arms around my body as we both go flying right out the door and into the yard. We tumble together down a little slope until my back cracks against a tree. I just want to lie there for a moment but Walter wastes no time. He gets to his feet and I'm forced to get to mine to avoid the kick he aims at my head.

We dance around the tree for a few moments. Now I'm on the defensive, avoiding him, fleeing more than fighting. I try to get in a few blows but mine are becoming less and less while his are becoming stronger and more pointed. I realize now that he's been holding back in order to really push against me here at the end. _Damn, _I think. _Why didn't _I _think of that?_

It gets to the point where he has me cornered against the trampoline. With no other option, I leap onto it, just barely avoiding a kick that could have easily caught my leg and dragged me back. He jumps up after me and lunges for me. Forcing my tired legs to work overtime, I bunch them and then leap, sailing over him in a horizontal twirl that, in retrospect, I think probably looked really cool.

Except when I land, I land completely on my left side. Pain jars up my shoulder and I gasp aloud. Walter lands in front of me and all I want to do is call a timeout. But I can't give up. If I do, I won't pass. Shakily, I get to my feet and the dance starts up once more. Land a punch, feint back, strike again, then shrink back.

Finally, Walter reaches for me and I raise my hands up to meet his. We clasp our hands together and push; we're straining against each other so hard that I can see the tendons quivering under our skin.

But Walter is stronger. After a few heartbeats, I collapse beneath him, my back hitting the earth with a thud. I let him pin me to the ground and count out the five seconds under his breath while I relish the thought of not fighting anymore.

Once he's done counting, he grins down at me. "Well, Patriot," he says. "You put up quite a fight."

There's a huge lump in my throat. I lost. I didn't pass. "Yeah. Thanks," I mumble, avoiding his gaze.

He grips my hand tightly and pulls me to my feet. My legs tremble under me and I can't wait to just sit and not have to do anything. From the doorway of the shop, Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien come spilling toward me, jumping excitedly around me.

"Oh my _God, _that was amazing!" Jimmy exclaims.

"Do you know how badass that was? You were frickin all over the place!" Eddie adds, grinning at me, eyes wide with amazement.

"Thanks," I mutter, though I don't really mean it. If I had been "amazing" and "badass", I would have beaten Walter.

"Well," Walter says thoughtfully after a moment. "I suppose I'll have to pass you."

I look up, shocked, my mouth hanging open. "But...I lost!" I splutter, surprised.

"I said you needed to _pass, _not win," Walter replies.

"But...but aren't you going to tell me how, if this had been a real fight, I'd be dead right now?" I demand.

He raises an eyebrow. "Would you like me to?"

"No, but..." I trail off, completely blindsided.

He smirks at me. "I promise, I'll teach you how _not _to die before I unleash you on the streets. For now, you pass."

"Oh my God, thank you so much!" I gush. I want to hug him but I know he won't like that, especially in front of the guys. Plus, I'm not sure how much longer my legs will hold me up.

"You're welcome," he replies, rolling his eyes. "Now let's get you cleaned up. You've got blood all over your face." As I follow him inside, leaning on Eddie for support, I can't help hoping that this won't be the last time.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So how was _that _for a lot of fight scenes? Hope you enjoyed it. Please review!


	27. Twenty Seven

NOTE: Hello, all. This chapter requires the instrumental "I Like to Play" by Geoff Zanelli for when Eddie and Rylie try sneaking away. Then "Supermassive Black Hole" by the most wonderful Muse for the sparring scene between Rylie and Rory. And finally "Mombasa" by Hans Zimmer for the Streetbeat. Enjoy! :)

27. Into the Brotherhood

"C'mon, Rylie, hurry up!"

"I'm coming! Ouch! Fuck!"

"Come _on!" _

"Hey, don't rush me, I nearly broke my ankle just now!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby."

Eddie grabs my arm and yanks me forward, so I have no choice but to keep up with him. My heart is pounding with excitement, and the adrenaline that comes from trying not to get caught doing something you know you're not supposed to. I am dressed in my costume and Eddie is dressed all in black with a makeshift leather mask I bought the other night, and even though it's the middle of the afternoon, I'm hoping that the criminals will be coming out early.

We race around the house, avoiding any place where we could be in plain view. I know Walter will be here soon and we'll need to leave before he gets here. "You should've called Damien and told him not to pick Walter up," I mutter to Eddie as we stop on the back porch.

"Yeah, well, if I _had, _then Walter would probably get suspicious," Eddie retorts and leans around the corner to check that nobody is there.

And then we here a car door slam and we look at each other, eyes wide. "Oh, shit," we chorus under our breath. Damien's truck. They're already here.

"Run!" Eddie hisses and darts out toward the driveway.

"No, no, wait! Let's go this way!" I protest, grabbing his arm and tugging him back the way we came.

"Why?" he asks, confused.

"Because we can sneak around the shop and head out more toward the woods. They won't see us as easily," I reply. Eddie follows closely as I lead the way, curving around behind the back of the shop at full speed.

When we turn the corner, however, I have to skid to a stop and Eddie cannons into me from behind, nearly sending me to the ground with the impact. "Ack, why the hell did you stop, you great lump?" he demands, stepping back. I don't reply. I'm too busy staring with mouth and eyes open wide at Walter, who stands right in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised.

"So. Where are you two going?" Walter inquires.

"Uh...We were just..." I stammer, desperately trying to think of some lie to tell him. Normally I'm pretty good at this but with Walter, it's not as simple. He can tell I'm lying the minute I open my mouth.

"Racing," Eddie interjects. Walter turns to him expectantly, managing to make his expression look sarcastic without ever saying a word. "Yeah," Eddie continues. "Just to get our blood pumping, you know. Gotta keep in top shape."

Walter nods. "Yes, of course," he replies and I wince. He's not buying it at all. "And you had to dress up to do this?"

"Yeah, well, we wanted to get used to how it felt in our costumes, you know," Eddie explains.

"Ah, yes, of _course," _Walter says, nodding and smiling. I watch him suspiciously; I don't trust that smile. Then he rolls his eyes and the smile disappears. "Do you really think I'm going to swallow that blatant lie?"

Eddie glares at him. "Hey, man, I'm not lying-"

"Eddie," I mutter and shake my head at him. "Don't."

"You two were sneaking off to find trouble, weren't you?" Walter says accusingly and shakes his head. "I'm disappointed. I thought we were past that."

"I'm sorry," I apologize immediately. "We just wanted to-"

"Prove yourselves?" he interrupts. "I know. That's why I came to look for you."

I blink, surprised. "What do you-"

"I've laid out an obstacle course of sorts downtown. You must get through it successfully. You do that, and you're a vigilante," he explains, talking over me.

I look at him for a moment, completely shocked. "Why now? I thought we hadn't trained long enough," I ask.

He nods. "If this decision were just subject to my own logic, I would train you for much longer," he agrees. Then he narrows his eyes and there is a dangerous glint in his eyes. "But last night, I met Rob and he told me that when he was on Infowars, Alex Jones was talking about the government's plan to drop the dollar."

His meaningful expression turns toward me and I narrow my eyes, meeting his gaze. "What did he say?" I inquire, feeling a sense of calm settle over me in preparation of whatever he's about to tell me.

"He said that the government plans on dropping the dollar no later than the end of next summer."

Despite my calm, I feel my heart plummet down into a deep pit of despair. Shock makes me feel weak. It had been rumored that they would drop the dollar no sooner than three or four years into the future. But not by the end of next summer! Not in a year and a half! Eddie and I look at each other, and I can see in his eyes that he is seeing the same thing I am- people panicking, starving, looting, unable to find work or pay for anything. The country under martial law, the cops taking control, FEMA camps scattered across the nation, people herded in like sheep...

I look at Walter. He meets my gaze and there is no dread in his eyes. Only anger and defiance. He looks at me and in that moment I share something with him that goes even deeper than what I shared with Eddie. It calms me down, it makes me feel like whatever happens, I won't be facing it alone. I'll be watching the future approach with Walter right at my side.

"I'm not an expert but I do know enough to see that when the dollar is dropped, things will get ugly. And I wouldn't leave you unable to defend yourselves. So, due to these exigent circumstances, I've been forced to accept that having you become vigilantes sooner rather than later would be the ideal option," he continues, breaking the connection between us.

"Wow. That's awesome!" I gush, sidetracked by the idea that what I've been working so hard to attain is finally in my grasp. "I mean, not the whole dropping the dollar thing, but the becoming vigilantes thing," I add quickly.

Walter opens his mouth, a slight smile curving at the edges of his mouth. "Oh, did I say the _both _of you? Sorry, Cadence, but for now, I only want Eddie to become a vigilante," he says.

My mouth pops open in shock. "_What? _Walter, I cannot believe you! What is it with you thinking I can't be a vigilante? I mean, c'mon-"

"Cadence!" he interrupts, laughter in his eyes. "I didn't say _not ever. _I just said _not today."_

"But, Walter!" I whine but he shakes his head.

"Cadence, I've made up my mind. Don't worry, you won't be far behind. But I need to experiment with Eddie first to see if I should adjust these tests to make them easier or harder. Plus, he's more ready than you are. Sorry, but it's true," he explains.

"But I've been training longer than him!"

"Yes, but he started off more athletic than you." I scowl at the ground, but Walter just chuckles. "Now, if you two are done sneaking around, it's time for Eddie to cross the threshold into manhood," he says, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

Eddie laughs. "Oh, Walter. That ship's already sailed, if you know what I mean."

_~r.~_

So Eddie passed his test with flying colors. He and Walter had sparred before Eddie embarked on the obstacle course, which we had all taken to calling the "Streetbeat". Since then, Eddie and I have been working on a costume and vigilante title for him but we haven't thought of anything yet. But despite his nonexistant identity, Walter has been taking him out on patrol every night, and I have to endure watching them leave every night while I'm stuck at home worrying about them.

Meanwhile, a week has passed since the Eddie's Streetbeat, and I've been training like crazy to get myself in tip-top shape for my own. Damien and Jimmy have agreed to do their's after mine, which makes me even more nervous, as if I have to prove something to them.

But that's not true. I just have to prove myself to Walter. Yeah. That thought doesn't calm me down at all. But I just focus on training for the Streetbeat instead of worrying about it.

And then one night, Walter sneaks in through my window and I know something is up immediately. It's not the fact that he's visiting at all- he always does. But it's the fact that he doesn't have Eddie with him that instantly makes me suspicious.

He smiles when he leans down onto my bed. I feel his presence like a heat next to me and my heart flutters in my chest- it _must _be some big news he has to tell me. Usually he doesn't like being this close to me when I'm in bed.

He doesn't say anything and after a moment I make a face at him. He raises an eyebrow. "What? Do I smell bad tonight?" he drawls.

"You _always_ smell bad," I reply teasingly. He gives me a look and I hold up my hands. "Okay, okay. No, but seriously, you're grinning at me which makes me suspicious cuz you never smile so what's up?" I ask, talking so fast that my words thread together.

Walter rolls his eyes but continues to smirk at me. "I think it's time for your initiation," he says.

I know immediately what he means, but I try to keep the excitement off my face. "Oh, into the brotherhood?" I inquire in a dramatic voice.

He snorts. "Yes, the brotherhood of childish stupidity," he agrees.

"You do know that _you're _in the brotherhood?"

"I'm not _in _the brotherhood, I'm the _leader _of the brotherhood. I am above your childish stupidity," Walter clarifies.

"Oh, yeah, right. You're little prank you pulled on me was _definately _above childish stupidity," I drawl, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, cuz _your _prank was any more mature," Walter retorts and then shakes his head impatiently. "Okay, you're drawing me down to your level. Time to get back to what I came here for," he says and my heart flutters excitedly in my chest.

"Right. The brotherhood of stupidity," I reply, nodding.

"You'll have your Streetbeat tomorrow. Meet me at the warehouse in the morning and we'll spar. If you pass that, then you'll have your Streetbeat. If you pass that, then all your hard work will pay off," he tells me.

I grin at him even though my stomach is churning nervously. "Okay, sounds good," I agree.

And that's how I find myself training my butt off at two in the morning.

_~r.~_

In the morning, I head into town with my mom. "So, you know you don't have school today, right?" she says to me as I get in the car.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Mom," I reply.

"Oh, so you're just coming into town to spend time with your mommy, aren't you!" she exclaims jokingly.

"Going to see 'Inception' again, actually," I lie.

She gasps in mock indignation. "So you would willingly sacrifice time with me to go see 'Inception'?"

"Well, it's a tough decision, Mom. Cuz, see, on the one hand, I'll miss you so much. But on the other hand, if I don't see 'Inception', I'll die," I explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Drama queen."

Everyone is already at the warehouse when I arrive, waiting for me. There is an air of excitement that has my stomach doing flip-flops inside of me. I feel buzzed, my brain light-headed. It reminds me of when I would head onstage to do a dance recital. But worse.

And then I see Walter and my stomach does another flippy thingy, but it's not the same kind of flippy.

I've never seen him without his shirt off. The most I've seen of his body is when he wears his white wifebeater tanktop. But _this..._ I mean, I've seen Eddie naked. It was a complete accident and he always teases me about it like I'd done it on purpose, but secrety I can't help admitting that he had a nice body- strong, muscular chest, broad shoulders, hard-muscled arms, six-pack abs.

But Walter... He is lithe, not large like Eddie, but his muscles are hard and wiry. The skin leading down from his pecs to his abs is pale and dusted with freckles, and I can't help noticing the light-colored trail of hair leading up from the hem of his shorts to his navel.

"Well, Cadence," Walter drawls, making me jump. "Will my being half-naked distract you or do you think we can get started?" he asks. His words are teasing but his tone is sharp.

A bright blush colors my cheeks. I look away quickly. "Maybe we could get started if you'd stop yammering," I mutter.

Walter dips his head to me. "Fine. Whoever pins the other to the floor for five seconds wins, same as last time. And just let me warn you: you have to _win _this one to pass. And there are no other rules in this fight, except that we can't kill each other," he says.

My eyes widen. "Uh...no rules at all?" Walter shakes his head and I swallow hard. Then I glare at Eddie. "And you didn't tell me?"

Eddie shrugs. "He told me not to," he replies calmly.

I grimace, trying to hide my anxiety behind irritation as I bend down to take off my shoes. When I take off my shirt, however, Walter draws back, looking shocked. "You're taking off your shirt?" he stammers.

"Well, I'm wearing a sports bra," I reply, shrugging. "No biggie."

He doesn't reply for a moment and then he looks away. "You can wrap your hands but no gloves," he mutters quietly.

When I'm properly underdressed, I stand and face Walter. He glares at me determinedly, his expression single-minded and dangerous. I feel my muscles tense up and my heartbeat speed up in preparation. _This is it, _I think and narrow my eyes, trying to match Walter's determination.

And then it begins. Walter strikes first, too quick for me to defend myself, slamming his bare foot into the center of my chest and taking me by surprise. I go flying backward and slam into the wall behind me, and falling to my knees, I wonder what I've gotten myself into.

Then I look up and realize that Walter's foot is arcing toward my head. Quickly, I duck underneath, and his heel just barely scrapes across my spine. Scurrying back, I hop to my feet and cannon into Walter without hesitation. If I'm going to win this thing, I'm going to have to be aggressive. Because he was standing on one foot with his other one swinging around through the air, I knock him down easy enough and we go skidding across the cement.

I immediately start swinging my fists, but I make sure that my hits are well-aimed. Of course, it doesn't take him long to propel be backwards and off of him with his feet. I go flying and slide on my back across the floor. Walter lunges at me while I'm down; quickly I roll to the side and then kick out at him, catching him in the ribcage. But the moment I try to get to my feet, he spins around and swipes his foot into my legs, knocking me down. My knee cracks loudly against the cement and a sickening pain rolls through me. For a moment, my head spins dizzily and I want to pass out.

Then Walter's elbow comes down hard on the back of my neck, and I collapse. His hands close around my shoulders and he pins me to the floor. _No! _I scream internally and, with a feral growl, I flip over and press my feet to his stomach, trying to pry him off of me. He's counted to four when I finally succeed in forcing him away and scrambling to my feet.

We start dancing then in a wide circle around the warehouse. This is the most intense bout of sparring we've had yet. The sweat trickles down my face and into my eyes. My muscles burn under my skin. My fists start to pound painfully in their wraps. Walter swings his foot toward my head and I duck to avoid it. I punch at his jaw and he leans out of the way. After a stretch of hitting each other constantly, we enter a stretch where neither of us lands a blow.

And then, in a move so fast I don't even have time to react, he punches lower and his knuckles dig deep into my side. The blow to the liver has me doubled over in pain, my hands clutching my side, and I'm so focused on the pain in my side that it doesn't hurt as much when Walter punches me in the jaw. My head snaps back to the other side with the impact. I wonder if he's just cracked my cheekbone.

While I'm still reeling from the impact, Walter grabs my shoulders and throws me back against the wall again. I sink onto the table beneath me, and now that I am eye to eye with Walter he looks at me seriously. "Do you want to quit, Cadence?" His tone is not joking.

It enrages me. With a snarl, I kick out against his chest and send him flying backwards. Filled with new energy, I leap off of the table onto him and try to pin him to the floor. But he pushes up against me and flattens me to the floor. And this continues for a while, both of us wrestling fiercely on the floor, rolling across the warehouse.

Finally, when it seems I've almost reached my breaking point, when my muscles are burning like fire inside of me, when my limbs are trembling with exhaustion, I feel a secret resevoir of strength spill out inside of me. New adrenaline pours into my veins. It pushes me to my absolute limit. I've never felt so free and powerful, and at the same time so weak and vulnerable.

And it is with this last little push that I manage to pin Walter to the floor for five seconds.

Once the five seconds are over, he grins at me. "Well, Cadence. It seems you've beaten me," he says. Cheers erupt from behind us and suddenly there are hands on me, clapping me on the back, rubbing my sore shoulders, and pulling me to my feet. My head spins and I have to blink several times to clear the little black dots threatening to fill my vision.

"You okay?" Eddie murmurs to me. I nod and he grins. "Man, you were great. You should've seen yourself!"

"You were pretty damn fuckin' bitchin'," Jimmy crows and I look at him.

"Pretty damn fuckin' bitchin'?"

"Yeah. PDFB."

"...Alright then." I turn to look at Walter, who has gotten to his feet. "Did I hurt you very much?" I inquire, suddenly anxious.

He looks at me and smirks. "Cadence, you're good, but you're not _that _good," he replies and I give him a look. "I think the more appropriate question would be did _I _hurt _you _much?"

"Uh, yeah, actually, I think you broke my face, but other than that I think I'm okay," I reply, rolling my eyes.

Walter chuckles. "Sorry about that. But it's good experience for you. Now, take a few minutes to rest and then you'll have your Streetbeat," he tells me.

My stomach does a little twist and I feel my sore muscles like one giant, pulsing bruise inside of me. _My Streetbeat, _I remember, and my exhaustion feels almost unbearable at the thought. And then I remember what I'm fighting for, and the reason why Walter is willing to let me become a vigilante now, and I narrow my eyes in determination. _I can do this..._

After a little while, Walter comes over to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. "You ready?" he murmurs quietly.

I look up at him, take a deep breath, and nod. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Then let's go."

On the way to the starting point, Walter explains what will happen, as Eddie was sworn to secrecy never to give me advance warning. "Now, the object of the Streetbeat is fairly simple. You just need to follow the path to the end in under thirty minutes. Like with Eddie, I've made sure to give you your Streetbeat on a day when there will be less people downtown," he tells me.

I think for a minute and then I realize. "Oh! It's KU's graduation," I remember out loud. Since this is a college town, nearly everyone will be on campus.

"That's right. Everyone will be out of your way, just as long as you stay out of the streets, which should be easy enough since none of your path leads onto the main streets. Now, along your way, there will be several obstacles for you to overcome. This isn't simply a timed race. You must deal with them quickly and efficiently and move on. No dawdling. Just go with your instincts, they'll never fail you. Eddie and I know the shortcuts that cut through the path, and we will use those shortcuts to block you off on several occasions," Walter continues. "This Streetbeat will test your speed, strength, endurance, and your fighting skills, and if you pass, it will all be worth it."

I grin, excited through my nervousness. "I can't believe you're letting me do this," I can't help saying.

"Now, don't think that if you pass you'll be above training. You still have _a lot _to learn," he growls firmly.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, _Mom," _I drawl. And then my heart nearly stops in my chest as Walter grabs my shoulder and I grind to a halt.

"This is where you start," he tells me.

I look at him and try to hide the terror in my eyes. "Okay," I say, nodding.

He must hear the shaking in my voice because his eyes soften just slightly. "You've come this far, Cadence. Can't quit now," he murmurs, holding his arms out as if to say "But it's up to you".

I sigh and nod my head. "Yeah. Don't worry, I'm ready," I reply.

Walter dips his head to me, and then he gives me instructions on where to go. Hastily, I memorize the maze-like path in my mind and pray I won't forget. Inwardly I wish he could've just given me a map or something, but I guess my memory will have to do. Once I know where to go, Walter narrows his eyes, which glint dangerously like steel. "Ready?"

I nod, one quick, short bob of my head. "Ready."

"Then go," he barks.

I don't hesitate. I'm off before my feet can even register the fact that they're moving. I'm hoping that the fact that I'm the fastest person in my group will help me here, but I know I'll need to pace myself, too. Endurance, Walter had said. _This isn't just a timed race, _I remind myself.

But the first little stretch is pretty easy. All I have to do is follow the twists and turns of the inner alleyways, propelling myself at full speed till my legs feel almost numb with the effort.

My lungs are starting to hurt when I get to my first obstacle- a chainlink fence, closed and locked in front of me, blocking off the entrance to the next alleyway. I don't let this inconvenience slow me down, though. I jump midstride and loop my fingers through the holes to keep myself from falling. Then I quickly scramble to the top and jump down. Once my feet hit the pavement, I'm off running again. It doesn't matter that my legs are starting to burn like someone set them on fire, or that my lungs are about to burst in my chest. I am going to be a vigilante. That's all that matters.

I am turning a corner when I slam into someone. Or, maybe that someone slams into me. I don't really know since it happens so fast. But the next thing I know, I'm rolling on the ground with Eddie, who is throwing swift but well-aimed punches at me. Quickly, I throw my arms up in a defensive position and send a few jabs his way. The last one catches him in the jaw so hard his head snaps back, and I use the opportunity to shove him off of me with my foot and scramble to my feet.

No sooner am I standing than Walter has one arm wrapped around my neck in a chokehold, and is bending me foreward in an awkward position. I choke and gasp for breath but Walter's grip is a vice around my throat. Gritting my teeth, I swing my foot out and catch him in the ankle. His hold on me loosens a bit and I am able to wriggle out from under his arms.

But Eddie comes at me from the side and slams me into the alley wall. My shoulder cracks against the hard bricks and I can't help letting out a gasp of pain. But the pain just enrages me. Furious, I swing my entire body around in a graceful twirl, holding my right arm and leg out while I'm in mid-air so that my arm slams into Eddie's nose and my leg catches him in the stomach.

And then Jimmy and Damien step out into the alley and my heart sinks lower in my chest. I am badly outnumbered and my time is running out. _And they're blocking the way I need to go through, _I think despairingly.

While I'm distracted, Walter swings his arm around and his fist catches me in the side of the face. I go flying into the wall with the impact. Winded, I lie there for a second and then, seizing the opportunity, I scramble behind the dumpster next to me. I know it's not very professional but I need time to think. There's no way that I can take on all four of them in my already weakened state, I can feel it in my aching body. There's just no way. So what do I do?

Down at the other end of the alley, it opens up into the main street- Massachusetts. _If I can just somehow get onto Mass and find a way back into the alley system, I can get back on track, _I think to myself. Looking up, I see Eddie and Walter approaching. Damien and Jimmy still stand guard in front of the path I'm supposed to go.

_Now or never, _I think and, with a ferocious battle howl, I jump out from behind the dumpster and cannon into Eddie, slamming him into the wall like he'd done to me. But I don't waste time attacking him. As soon as his body hits the wall, I turn on my heel and race toward Mass street. I hear pursuit behind me and I know it's Walter without looking behind me. _Have to lose him, _I tell myself. And there's only one way.

The street in front of me is packed bumper-to-bumper with cars, people just leaving the campus to get lunch and celebrate with their grads. Without hesitating long enough to really think about what I'm doing, I reach forward and press my hands to the hood of the car in front of me, propelling myself up and over it with my palms. I go flying over the first car and skid across the hood of the second. There is a small break after that in which I have to fall to my hands and knees between two cars to avoid flying into a window. But after that I keep running, keeping my head low so Walter doesn't know where I am.

When I see another thin break in the cars, I dart through and into the next alley system. I hadn't seen Walter when I'd been leaving Mass street, which probably means that he's already back on the path, racing to beat me at his next checkpoint. Narrowing my eyes, I pump my arms and legs and pick up the pace.

I skid to a complete stop when I see my next obstacle- scattered on the pavement before me is a path of broken glass. It stretches a few feet long, maybe three or four, but it's glistening sharp points glitter menacingly in the sunlight. _And I still have bare feet! _I remember. Looking back at the broken glass, I think for a moment. I normally have pretty tough feet- comes from being a farm girl. I go everywhere barefoot if I can. But I've never purposely stepped on broken glass, let alone an entire four-foot long pathway of it. I can't help imagining the bloody mess my feet will be if I choose to cross, and I wince.

"Screw this," I mutter and jump onto a trashcan next to me. Balancing on the lid, I look down at the glass and judge the distance to the other side. It's too far to jump from here, but if I can propel myself from something after jumping off of this, maybe I can make it unscathed. But there is nothing. Just the walls of the alley.

"That'll have to do," I sigh to myself and, cringing, I leap- not toward the part of the path that's clean of glass but toward the wall opposite me. Hoping that this works in real life and not just the movies, I step onto the wall with one foot and push against it. I end up twisting in mid-air and flipping halfway over, so that when I fall back onto the pavement, I land on my right shoulder. But I least I don't land in the glass.

Huffing, I push myself to my feet and start running again. I'm slower this time, but at least I'm reaching the end of the course. And then, when I turn the corner and my eyes find the designated finish line not five yards from me, Eddie and Walter step out to block my path. I start to skid to a halt, but then I remember something Walter had once told me during a lesson: _"You must learn when to be defensive and when to be aggressive."_

Now is the time to be aggressive.

Clenching my teeth, I charge forward, pushing myself to my absolute limit. My heart feels as though it could burst any minute now in my chest. Breathing in and out through my throat feels like I'm choking on splinters. But none of that stops me as I fly toward the two of them and tackle them both to the ground. Walter grabs me around the waist and tries to hold me steady, but I whip my arm back, slapping one of his away. At the same time I kick out at Eddie, who is coming toward me; my foot slams into his stomach and sends him backwards.

Turning on Walter, I punch him straight across the jaw, and with his grip on me loosened, I scramble to my feet and all-out sprint toward the finish line. Damien and Jimmy leap out at me and try to grab me, but I'm too fast for them. When my feet cross the finish line, I stumble to a halt, feeling like my body is on fire. The little black dots are swirling in front of my eyes again, threatening to pull me under. I lean against the wall of the alley, resting my forehead against the bricks.

And then I feel people around me, hands on my arms and shoulders, one arm wrapped around my waist. I hear voices murmuring excitedly, but one I focus on is Walter's. His breath is warm in my ear as he whispers, "You passed, Cadence." Is there pride in his voice or am I just hallucinating? "Well, now, Patriot. Happy you got your way?" he continues teasingly, and I know then that I'm not hallucinating.

I lean back into him, resting against his chest. I can barely see anything anymore. "Yeah," I reply, but my voice comes out as a weak rasp.

"Are you alright?" Walter asks, his voice suddenly worried.

"Yeah...just...the world's kinda...spinning..." And that's the last thing I say before I pass out into his arms.

_**Rorschach**_

When Cadence falls limp in my arms, for a second I don't know what to do. I stare down at her with my eyes open wide, shocked. And then Eddie nudges me and I look at him. "You just gonna stand there with your mouth open, or don't you think we should maybe cool her off?" he inquires smartly.

"Uh...yeah..." I reply, still dumbfounded. I hadn't been expecting Cadence to pass out like that.

I gently hand her to Eddie, who carefully lays her flat on the ground. Jimmy comes over to me, grinning. "Hey, don't worry, man. It's just the heat. Rylie used to pass out a lot because she never knew her limits," he tells me.

I snort. "Why does that not surprise me?" I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"She'll be fine in a few minutes. She just needs to cool off," he assures me.

Even though I know she'll be okay, I can't help watching her face anxiously as Eddie fans her with his hands to try and get her cooled off. My heartbeat skips slightly with relief when I see her eyelids flutter open.

Eddie grins down at her. "Hey, there, babydoll. How's it hangin'?"

Cadence smiles up at him, still blinking as though trying to clear her vision. "Oh, just trying to regain consciousness. You know. The usual," she replies.

He laughs. "So, Miss Patriot. You're officially a vigilante. Wanna celebrate?" he inquires.

I can't help smiling a little at the glow of disbelief and excitement in her eyes. "Well...my mom thinks we're in town to see 'Inception' again. Why lie?" she suggests.

Eddie rolls his eyes and groans. "Girl, you are _obsessed _with that movie!" he exclaims.

"I know! But it was amazing! Plus, right now, I'm not sure I want to do anything else but sit and relax for a while," Cadence replies.

"Oh, fine. Lazy," Eddie mutters and Cadence laughs. Then he turns to Damien and Jimmy. "You guys wanna come with us?" he asks.

"Yes! I thought you would never ask! That Arthur is just too sexy to not see more than once on the big screen," he gushes and Damien rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

"Alright, then, let's go," Eddie says and helps Cadence to her feet. Still smiling slightly, I nod to them and turn to leave.

"Wait!" Cadence calls. I turn to her, one eyebrow raised. She looks back at me, puzzled. "Aren't you coming?" she asks. At her side, Eddie's face falls but I ignore him.

I look back at her, surprised. "Really?"

Cadence rolls her eyes. "_Yes, _really, you're my friend. Plus, you haven't seen the amazing glory that is 'Inception'," she adds, grinning.

"You mean the amazing glory that is Arthur. Admit it, Rylie, you have the hots for him," Damien teases.

Jimmy gasps in mock indignation. "He is _mine, _you bitch! I'll fight you for him!"

"Psht, I could take you, you little homo," Cadence replies and then turns to me. "Now, c'mon. I don't know when the movie starts so I hope we haven't already missed the start time."

And after the movie, I can't help admitting that Cadence was right. 'Inception' was good. And it was even better sitting next to her.

_**Rylie**_

_"Poppin' bottles in the ice, like a blizzard/When we drink we do it right gettin' slizzard/Sippin' sizzurp in my ride, like Three 6/Now I'm feelin' so fly like a G6!" _Eddie and I sing loudly to "Like a G6" as we dance together in my computer room. It is the eve of my initiation into the brotherhood and we are still celebrating.

We stop for a moment after the song ends and sit on the couch, panting and grinning at each other. "Man, do you remember when we first asked Walter to train us?" Eddie asks.

I laugh. "Yeah. He was pissed," I reply, remembering Walter's scorching anger and smiling. It's nice to know that I can smile at the memory that once made me cringe.

"And to think: this has been our dream since we were kids. And now, we're actually living it!" Eddie continues and holds up his wine glass filled with Dr. Pepper.

"I'll drink to that," I say, holding my own glass up and clinking it against his.

After we rest for a few minutes, "Higher" by Taio Cruz starts playing and Eddie's eyes fly open wide. "Ooh! I love this song!" he exclaims and pulls me to my feet so we can dance.

Walter walks in on us as we're finishing the song: _"Cuz I can't get enough, I can't get enough/I can't stay on the ground/I can't get enough, I can't get enough/This is takin' me now/It's takin' me higher and higher and higher off the ground/It's takin' me higher and higher and higher off the ground!" _And in my head, the lyrics are exactly how I feel. The fact that I am now a vigilante, the thing I've dreamt of most for years, has got me feeling like I'm on cloud 9.

Walter raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. "Having fun?" he asks sarcastically.

"Yeah, actually, we are," I reply, taking a sip of my Dr. Pepper.

He frowns. "I hope that is completely non-alcoholic," he says disapprovingly.

I roll my eyes. _"Yes, _Walter, I'm not a complete idiot," I mutter.

"Well, I just dropped in to tell you two that you should get some rest tonight because tomorrow night, you both will be coming with me on patrol," he tells us. My heart flutters in my chest and I exchange a quick, excited glance with Eddie. Then Walter dips his head to us and says, "Goodnight."

After he leaves, Eddie rolls his eyes. "Jeez, couldn't he have given us a little 'Congratulations' or something?" he mutters.

I laugh and we continue dancing. No matter what Walter says, my dream has just come true, and even if I settled down for the night and got in bed, there's no way I could ever sleep.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yay! Rylie's finally a vigilante! Course it's not always rainbows and butterflies, as you good readers well know already. But I'm happy it finally happened :P As always, please review. And I updated "The Night's Journal" so check it out if you're interested.


	28. Twenty Eight

28. Such is the Night Watch

The next night, Walter arrives at my house at around ten. I've made sure that my mom, who has to leave for work early in the morning, is already in bed and asleep so that she won't notice my absence.

My heart is pounding in my chest, making me feel light-headed. My first official patrol with Walter! Hopefully it won't end up as badly as my first few attempts.

"Eddie, Cadence," Walter greets us, nodding to us in turn. We both nod back and he continues. "Now, I know that you have been on patrol with me before," he says, glancing at Eddie. "But you," he continues, turning to me, "have not. And it's going to be much different than you're expecting, I can guarantee."

I glance at Eddie, blinking, and he nods in agreement. I turn back to Walter. "What do you mean different?" I ask. I know he's told me time and again that it's rough and dangerous and it will change you, blah, blah, blah. But I've never heard him say that it's not what I'm expecting.

Walter shrugs. "You'll see," he replies vaguely. I scowl at him but he starts talking again before I can get a word in. "The most important thing you can remember on your first night is that you are no longer training. This is not a sparring session, this is no boxing match. See, the problem with fighting outside of a boxing ring is that it's messy, unpredictable, and terrifying," he says. "Don't underestimate it."

"Underestimate what exactly?" I inquire.

"The darkness," he growls in reply, and there is a glint in his eyes that makes me shiver. It makes me think that he's seen things beyond terrifying, and that I will have to face them, too.

Eddie sees me shiver and nudges me with his elbow. "C'mon, Rylie. Not scared of the dark, are you? Thought you were a night owl," he teases.

I clench my jaw and lift my head up proudly. "I've loved stars too fondly to be fearful of the night," I reply hotly and he chuckles.

"Are you two ready?" Walter asks, but he only looks at me. I nod, glaring back at him determinedly, daring him to say that I'm not ready. He watches me for a second and then dips his head. "Alright. Then let's go. We've got a lot of ground to cover before dawn."

On the way there, Eddie and I prance around Walter laughing and joking with each other loudly. I think the high from being vigilantes together still hasn't worn off. But the moment we reach the city limits, Eddie falls silent and I follow suit. The look on his face is determined and focused, and I blink, surprised. He looks so...professional. And the more I watch, the more I'm surprised. The way he and Walter move around each other is shocking. They clearly have had to get used to being together for hours every night, and it's evident in the way they move like they've been doing this for years. When Walter turns, Eddie turns in the other direction to cover him. I can tell they still don't like each other, but the way they function on patrol makes it clear that they're rivalry doesn't matter right now.

I'm impressed but I don't say anything. I don't want to draw attention to they're little feud, and I don't want to break the silence that has fallen over our little group. I want to look professional, too. So I stay silent, following just a few steps behind Eddie and Walter, examining how they move and watch and listen, and hoping that I'm doing this whole patrolling thing right.

Midway through the first hour of the night, they lead me to a fire escape ladder and start climbing. I blink, surprised, but I don't question it. Once I get to the top, though, I realize why they came up here. You can see everything from up here, the entire city! It's a gorgeous view, and I can't help relaxing for a moment to enjoy it.

The next second, my legs are knocked out from under me and I am lying flat on my back, breathless and completely blindsided. Looking up in shock, I see Walter glaring down at me. Though I can't see his face I know he's glaring because I can feel the irritation radiating out from him. "Do you know why vigilantes are given that title?" he growls.

I stare up at him, mouth open wide in shock. What did I do? He sighs, and I can almost see him roll his eyes. "Because they are vigilant," he snaps and then offers me his hand. "Must keep alert at all times," he barks, pulling me roughly to my feet.

"Sorry," I mutter, feeling Eddie's eyes on me and blushing furiously with embarrassment. I glower at the rooftop under my feet though I keep my senses alert for another sneak attack from Walter. _How come he insists on embarrassing me all the time?_ I wonder.

"Come," he orders, keeping his grip on my wrist and dragging me over to the edge of the roof. "There," he says, pointing below him to a door that leads into the alley. "Watch."

"What am I supposed to be watching for?" I mumble, still pouting.

"Fat, short man with black hair and glasses. Usually has two or three bodyguards with him," Walter replies.

"Why are we looking for him?"

"He stole fifteen thousand dollars from a bank in Iowa, and killed seven innocents doing it. Then he came here, and he's been collaborating with some of the gangs," Eddie explains quietly. "The bad gangs, at least."

"Must catch him. Must be punished," Walter growls, and I feel his single-minded determination to catch the criminal and bring him to justice beat strongly in my veins. I stare at him as he walks away; Rorschach is so different from my Walter. Then, with a small sigh, I settle down to watch the door beneath me.

And after three straight hours of silence and boredom, I'm beginning to understand what Walter had meant when he'd said this would be different than what I was expecting. I had been expecting guns, adrenaline, action. Something! Something other than this mind-numbing boredom!

Finally, fed up, I stand and march over to Walter, who is watching the opposite side. He looks at me sharply. "See something?" he inquires.

"No," I reply, annoyed. "But when are we going to do something else? Shouldn't we be patrolling the rest of the area? Isn't there something else we could be doing?"

"_This_ what we should be doing," Walter replies sternly. "This is a stakeout. If you don't like it, go home." With that, he returns to watching the streets below.

I gape at him, completely frustrated. "There are three of us, Walter!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air.

He turns back to me immediately, and there is anger coming off him in waves. "Rorschach," he snaps.

I draw back, blinking. "What-"

"Am not Walter," he says. "Rorschach."

"But-"

"Don't call _you _by your real name, Patriot," he growls. "Would reveal identity. Not safe. Name is Rorschach. Remember that."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, fine, whatever. _Rorschach. _Isn't there something better I could be doing right now? I mean, if you want your stakeout you can have it, but _I _would rather be utilizing my skills and fighting."

Rorschach cocks his head. "Don't think catching this man is important?" he inquires, and beneath his calm tone is a quivering rage. "Killed seven people. Plotting with enemy gangs. Bad man. Could do worse things. If you don't think this is important, then leave."

"No, that's not what I'm saying, I'm just-"

"Guys!" Eddie calls. His voice is quiet but the urgency in his tone makes us both stop and turn to him. "He's leaving the building!" Rorschach and I rush over to Eddie's side of the roof and peer down. Sure enough, the man Rorschach had described is walking out onto the sidewalk with four lumbering bodyguards around him. "Man, a week of waiting for this guy and he never shows and now, finally, he makes his presence known," Eddie mutters.

"Well, let's go and get him!" I reply and prepare to jump down onto the sidewalk with him.

"No," Rorschach growls and grabs my arm, holding me back.

"But we need to catch him right now before he escapes!" I protest.

Rorschach shakes his head. "Will head him off when he cuts through alley to get to gang hideout. Can't attack in plain sight. Have eyes watching for it. Alleys are dark, secret. Thinks he owns them but we'll prove him wrong," he growls and shoves off in the opposite direction. I hurry to my feet and follow.

We climb down the fire escape and head into the alley behind the building. I let Rorschach and Eddie lead the way, unsure of where we are at the moment. And then the man we're hunting steps out in front of us with his bodyguards. The man himself is oblivious to us; it is only because of a shout from a bodyguard that he realizes we're there at all.

Rorschach, Eddie, and I stop, facing the men. The bank robber looks more like a pimp to me, decked out in a white, button-down coat with black fur lining and thousands of gold rings that cover his fingers with bling. I roll my eyes, shaking my head in disbelief. What is this guy, a joke? It may be nighttime, but it's still hot and humid, and he's wearing a coat? He must be an idiot.

The idiot pimp cocks his head and peers at us. "You got a problem?" he finally asks, in a voice like the Godfather.

"You," Rorschach growls in response.

The pimp blinks at Rorschach and then his eyes widen in surprise. "Hey. Ain't you that vigi guy? Ro-shack...somethin'..."

"Rorschach."

"Ah, yeah. Rorschach. Ain't you supposed to be dead?"

Rorschach doesn't respond and I look at him nervously. Isn't he worried that people are going to figure out he's not as dead as he's supposed to be?

"Hey, what's the problem? Cat got yer tongue?" the pimp asks, laughing along with his bodyguards. But when Rorschach doesn't respond yet again, the pimp narrows his eyes. "Look, I don't know what yer supposed to be, and I don't really care. If you got a problem, you come out and say it, otherwise, leave this area. I got some business to attend to and I don't need you and yer vigi pals snoopin'."

Rorschach doesn't say anything. The pimp stares at us, mouth hanging open, and then he shakes his head in disbelief. "Man, you causin' a problem for you and yer friends," he mutters, then flicks his wrist toward us. "Take care of that."

Two of his bodyguards nod to him and start coming at us. Rorschach holds his ground, watching calmly as the two huge, beefy men- who easily tower over him- come rumbling over. They're a foot from us when the biggest man throws a bone-crunching punch at Rorschach's face. But Rorschach ducks under the blow at the last second and comes up again swinging. His first punch lands on the man's gut, and when the man doubles over in pain, Rorschach swings his fist around again and catches him in the jaw.

"Patriot!" Eddie hollers and I turn quickly to see that the other man is coming toward him. Without any further thought, I leap into action, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Eddie as the man charges toward us. We wait till the last second and then separate, darting in opposite directions to let the man slam into empty space. Then we come back together, converging on the startled bodyguard. I leap onto his right shoulder, unbalancing him, and then Eddie comes at him from the left side, throwing a few well-aimed jabs at his liver. The man starts to lean, trying to get away from Eddie's blows but still weighed down by me.

Clinging desperately to him, digging my nails deep into his neck and shoulderblade, I swing my leg up and kick him in the balls. Well, that downs him pretty quick. He doubles over and as he's kneeling on the ground, Eddie swings his arm around in a swift arc and punches the bodygurad. The man's head snaps back from the impact and he falls, unconscious, to the ground.

I grin at Eddie. "Nice sideswipe," I tell him.

He grins back. "Yeah, thanks, it's my trademark move." Then Eddie nods at something behind me, and I turn to see that Rorschach has turned back to the pimp and his two remaining bodyguards.

The pimp is staring at us with his mouth wide open. "You sons'a bitches!" he shrieks and then turns to his two other men. "Kill them."

These bodyguards waste no time with physical fighting. Both of them draw their guns and start shooting immediately. The three of us duck and slam back against the wall, Rorschach on one side, Eddie and I on the other. I can't take my eyes off of Rorschach. With all this gunfire, I need to make sure he's safe.

He watches the men for a moment, and then he looks back at me. I can feel his eyes on my face and they warm me. Then he motions toward the men, who have stopped firing to reload, and all three of us rise and charge toward them. I cannon into the closest to me, grabbing his thick neck in my hands and pressing my knees into my chest. He stumbles back, staring at me in shock. I punch him across the face, feeling his nose crunch under my knuckles.

But he regains his balance and his head snaps around to glare at me. He reaches up and grabs me by the hair. He tugs and I cry out in pain. My grip on him has loosened, and he is able to pluck me off of him and throw me into the alley wall. My back cracks against the bricks and the air is forced painfully from my lungs.

And then I feel a flare of unimaginable rage in my chest. For a moment, I'm confused. Sure, being thrown against a wall hurt like hell and I hate the guy for doing it but this... _Is not my anger, _I realize, looking up at Rorschach, who has abandoned the man he's been fighting and lunged at the man who threw me.

Even though the bodyguard is huge- and believe me, I'd felt the strength in his body- Rorschach takes him down easily. The fury flies off of him like sparks as he tears into the man, punching him raw, until the man is unconscious. Then he whips around, still crouched on the man's body, and looks at me. "Patriot!" he barks. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I reply weakly, wincing when I try to get up.

"Here," he growls, striding over to me and offering me his hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet.

Then we both turn sharply at the sound of footsteps racing away. The pimp is gone. Narrowing my eyes determinedly and ignoring the ache in my spine, I turn to Rorschach. "I got this," I tell him and before he can protest, I'm running off in pursuit of the pimp.

After turning a few corners in the inner alleys, I see him. He is fat and slow, and I catch up to him easily. He doesn't even see me coming. I cannon into him from behind, knocking him to the ground. We both go tumbling head-over-heels, and when we finally come to a stop, I stand immediately and stride over to him. He cowers beneath me, trying to scramble backwards and get to his feet.

I stand above him and curl my lip, disgusted. "Get up, you pig," I growl. He continues to shake under me. "Stand!" I snap loudly. He quickly gets to his feet, still stumbling. I grab his wrists and wrap his arms behind his back. Then I push him with my other hand and growl, "Move."

I know the only reason the man is listening to me is because he doesn't have a gun to defend himself with, but I can't help feeling like a stud as I force him back into the alley where Rorschach and Eddie are anxiously waiting.

They run toward me immediately, shouting "Patriot!" I nod and grin arrogantly, shoving the pimp toward Rorschach, who catches him and shoves him to the ground.

"Oh, please, d-don't hurt me, I'll-I'll pay you, just...just don't hurt me!" the pimp pleads.

"Quiet!" Rorschach snaps and the pimp falls silent obediently. "Handcuffs," he then barks at Eddie, holding out one hand while keeping his other clasped across the pimp's wrists.

Eddie quickly reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. I watch, mouth gaping, as he hands them to Rorschach. "Where did you get handcuffs?" I hiss to him as Rorschach quickly cuffs the man and pulls him upright.

"Stole 'em off a cop a couple nights ago," he replies, smirking.

Rorschach slams the handcuffed man against the wall of the alley and presses his face into the bricks. "Conspiring with gangs. Know information. Tell us what they're planning," he whispers in the man's ear.

"I...I don't know," the man replies tersely, as if suddenly deciding to grow some balls and stand up to us.

"The hell you _don't," _Rorschach snaps, twisting the man's arm up at an awkward angle. The snap of his bone breaking is so loud I can hear it from across the alley, and I can't help flinching. The man screams in agony. "Tell me what you know," Rorschach repeats.

"I...I can't..." the man says in a strangled voice.

After a pause, Rorschach slams his foot into the man's leg, snapping it cleanly in two. The man falls to the ground instantly, howling. "Tell me!" Rorschach barks.

But the pimp just looks up at Rorschach and starts laughing hysterically. "Even you can't force me to betray my friends," he spits.

"Hmph. Friends," Rorschach repeats in disgust, then takes the man's face in his hands.

"Look away," Eddie hisses to me quickly, and I barely have time to look away before he snaps the man's neck.

_~r.~_

The dawn is just barely breaking in the eastern horizon when I see my house off in the distance. Even though I'm exhausted, I force my tired legs to walk faster. Eddie, however, still seems to have boundless energy and he dances around me, grinning excitedly.

"Man, I wish you could see yourself when you're in the zone. You are frickin' badass!" he exclaims.

I smile back at him tiredly. "Yeah, you're not too bad yourself, Sideswipe," I reply and then I sigh. "I cannot _wait _to get out of these pants! They're so _hot!_ Maybe I should change my outfit..."

"But you earned your stripes in those pants! They're like your man-pants!" Eddie protests and I laugh.

"My _man_-pants, huh? Well, I guess I've been buying the wrong underwear..."

"Did well tonight, Cadence," Rorschach murmurs quietly, taking off his mask.

I turn to him and take off my own. "Thanks...Walter?" I reply questioningly.

His lips twitch but he doesn't smile. "Yes," he says, nodding. "I'm Walter now."

"Multiple personality disorder," Eddie mutters to me and I giggle.

Walter rolls his eyes but doesn't respond. Instead he just motions to the tree next to my window and turns to me. "Home now," he murmurs.

I dip my head to him, smiling slightly. "Yep..." For a second we stare at each other, and I'm overcome with a sense of solidarity between us. It hits me then that I am officially Walter's partner- not just his training partner and not just his "bring-down-the-government" partner- but his actual partner. The thought makes me feel warm and safe inside.

"Uh, Rylie?" Eddie says impatiently, making me jump. "We goin' inside or what?"

"Y-yeah, yeah, sorry," I reply and then nod to Walter. "Well. See you tomorrow."

Walter nods back. "Goodnight, Cadence," he murmurs and watches from below as Eddie and I climb back into my room. I turn to lean out my window and say one more good-bye to him, but he is already gone. Sighing, I turn back to Eddie to see him flopped on my bed.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and he sits up, resting his chin on my shoulder while I pull my boots off my aching feet. "You were really good tonight," he mumbles in my ear.

"Thanks," I reply, massaging my sore toes and wincing. I yawn but I still feel like I could jump into action if the need arose, and suddenly I smile in disbelief. _That's _why Walter had insisted on dropping in every night and keeping me from sleep. So that I could be prepared for this. "You little son of a bitch," I mutter.

Eddie looks at me, confused. "What?"

"Oh, nothing."

Shrugging, he wraps his arms around my waist and I feel my face heat up. I hope he can't tell just how flustered he's making me right now. "I think your Walter was really impressed," he murmurs quietly.

I snort. "Nah, you can't ever really impress Walter. He's too badass for his own good," I mutter.

He laughs. "Yeah, well, I don't know about _that..._" he murmurs, squeezing me, and then getting up. "Mind if I raid your fridge?" he asks, opening the door to the mini fridge in my room and peering through its contents.

"Why not, you'll do it anyway," I reply and then hiss in pain as I try to pull of my pants but end up bending my fingernail back instead. Growling determinedly, I get to my feet to try and tug them off.

Eddie turns to me, chewing on a pickle, and then he chuckles. "What are you doing?"

I glare down at my pants as I hop on one foot, trying desperately to peel them off. But, with a little squeal, I fall back onto the bed, one leg in the air, the other caught in my pants. "I can't even pull off my man-pants!" I exclaim loudly and Eddie bursts out laughing.

And since laughter is contagious, we both end up rolling on my bed, laughing hysterically, me with my pants halfway down. Yep. Such is the night watch.

_**Rorschach**_

I don't think about it until I'm safely at the warehouse. The sky is pink and blue with dawn, and people have started going about their daily business. It's time for me to settle down and sleep for a few hours.

But I can't sleep. I keep thinking about Cadence, and one particular image is burned into my mind.

When I had seen that man throw Cadence against the wall, heard her cry of pain, a red wave of heat had washed over me. The monster had roared to life inside of me and all of a sudden I was on top of the man, tearing into him with all the fury that beat strongly in my veins. Having Cadence on patrol is dangerous for me. I want to protect her, but I can't be everywhere at once.

_She passed your tests. She can handle herself, _I try to tell myself.

But I've always felt a subtle but burning need to protect her. It's always tucked away deeply in my chest, like the monster that lives in my belly. I can't get away from it. I can't escape.

Scowling, I lay down in a corner to sleep, but my last thought before I finally start dreaming is of Cadence flying backward into that wall.

_**Jon**_

The time is nearing for me to meet the one who stands alone, though she stands alone no more. She has found the one who will stand with her through everything. Distantly, I almost feel happy for her. I know that someday, she will rely on me and we will become what humans calls friends. What _I_ once used to call friends.

It will be nice to have a friend again. Nice, but unimportant. Not a necessity. It will just happen.

Their dance is progressing slowly. I watch each time they dance. It is beautiful, but raw. Someday it will be polished. They won't even have to think about it. It will just fall into place for them. They are two puzzle pieces coming together.

Soon, they will Touch. I must prepare myself to be there when it happens. They will need me then.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh my God, I'm back! It feels like its been forever (and, in truth, I thought it would be). If any of you have read "Space Dementia", then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, then basically I just explained in my note that my computer crashed and I thought my files were gone. But they aren't cuz some really cool guy fixed em, and now I can continue this story! Although updates may be slower because I'm really busy with senior year right now. Anyway, please review cuz I love you all! :)


	29. Twenty Nine

NOTE: This chapter sort of requires the song "Letters From the Sky" by Civil Twilight (though it will show up later in a chapter that it fits with more).

29. Letters From the Sky

Putting down my copy of the seventh "Harry Potter", I sigh. "A little piece of me died with Severus Snape," I murmur to no one in particular.

Eddie, who is sitting at my writing desk with my laptop, looks up at me and snorts. "Nerd," he mutters.

I glare at him. "What? He's my favorite character. If he were real, I would marry him," I reply. "And I swear, when the last movie comes out, I am going to cry. That's, like, my childhood. My childhood is coming to an end."

Walter, sitting next to me on my bed and reading his own book, doesn't look up but quietly mutters, "Very dramatic, Cadence."

"Hey, you don't understand, you haven't read these books," I snap, glaring at him.

"And I have no desire to."

I gasp indignantly, offended. "And to think I was going to invite you to our 'light-candles-for-atmosphere-and-watch-'Halloween'-while-eating-Muncher's-cream-cheese-danishes' party tonight," I mutter, returning to my book. I keep one eye on Walter, however, for his reaction.

He looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. "Your what?"

"Well, see, one of our traditions is to watch scary movies up here in my room and light candles and pretend that the power went out," I explain.

"Even though it obviously didn't because the TV still works," Eddie interjects and I nod.

"Oh. That's interesting," Walter replies skeptically.

"Yeah, and only my bestest best friends get to come," I persist. "Usually I invite Jimmy and Damien but it's their one year anniversary, so they can't come. So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to?"

Walter is silent for a moment, blinking at me. "What, as a replacement for those two?" he finally replies sarcastically.

I roll my eyes. "No, I was going to invite you anyway."

"Well...we have to patrol, so..." Walter hedges, immediately uncomfortable.

"Oh, c'mon, Walter. It's just one night. I mean, this town has had to do without you and your mad skills for years. One night isn't going to kill you."

"No, but it might kill someone else," he replies seriously, narrowing his eyes.

"Okay, fine, how about this? You come over and stay for a little while, then at, like, midnight or something, you leave on patrol?" I suggest.

Walter grimaces. "No, no, if I do this, you're still patrolling," he growls.

I gape at him. "But-"

"Cadence, you wanted this. You have to give everything to it," he interrupts firmly.

I scowl, pouting, and cross my arms over my chest. "Fine. I'll go. But only if you promise to come over and watch movies with us for a little while," I reply, pointing a finger stringently at him.

He sighs and rolls his eyes as if I've just asked him to work overtime on the holidays. "Yes, Cadence. I promise."

"Great. Now let's go out and get some lunch, I'm starved!" Eddie exclaims, shutting my laptop.

"Where do you wanna go?" I ask.

"I don't know. I'm kinda in the mood for sushi, so how about King Buffet?"

I beam excitedly. "You know I'm always in the mood for sushi," I reply and then turn to Walter. "You ever tried sushi?"

"No..."

I gasp. "Oh my God, we need to get you to King Buffet right away. C'mon, troops. Let's move out." And so, grabbing onto Walter's hand without even thinking about it, we all head out for lunch.

_**Dan**_

_Dear Dan,_

_It's been a while, my friend. I know that things weren't right the way we left them and I know you can probably never forgive me for what I did so many years ago. But I wanted to reconnect with old friends while there's still time. It's been twenty-six years, and I've been yearning for the old comraderie we used to feel. I just want to set things straight between us again. Please, meet me for coffee sometime. Bring Laurie if you like. Just come to my office. I want to talk to you._

_- Adrian Veidt_

I clutch the letter tightly in my hand, being careful not to rip it into little pieces like my quivering fingers are itching to do. That son of a bitch! How dare he send me a letter out of the blue asking for coffee as though nothing happened? "He has got a lot of fucking nerve," I mutter, feeling heat rush through me.

"Who?"

I turn to see Laurie walking into the kitchen from upstairs, her eyes still blurry from sleep, her hair mussed up. The heat disappears for a split second and my heart skips a beat in my chest at the sight of her. Even after all these years, she is still the most beautiful woman I've ever known.

But then she takes the letter from my hand and the beauty disappears. I glare flatly at her and snatch it back before she's had a chance to read it. "It's no one. Just a note from the IRS. Bills. Notices. Who gives a fuck?" I say, crumpling up the letter and tossing it in the trash. "I don't like the government meddling in our lives, that's all."

Laurie watches me suspiciously for a few moments and then shrugs. "Alright," she says in a voice that makes me think she doesn't believe me but she's just too tired to argue. "I'm gonna make coffee. You want some?"

"Yeah," I reply absently, staring down at the trash can and the letter in it. Something has just occurred to me. Veidt would never send me a note just to "reconnect with old friends". And he wouldn't send the letter simply to get a rise out of me. No. There's something else, something he needs to talk to me about...

Instantly, an image of Rorschach flashes in my mind and a sense of panic starts to grow in my chest. What if he knows? What if he wants me to confess that Rorschach is alive?

Another image flashes in my mind, this one even more pressing, even more urgent. Eddie. My son is with Rorschach in Lawrence, probably training to be a vigilante this very moment. If any of Veidt's suits catch Rorschach, it won't take them long to find Eddie.

"No," I whisper. Quickly, making sure that Laurie isn't watching, I rummage through the trash and pull out Veidt's letter. "Honey, I'm gonna take a quick shower before breakfast," I call to Laurie, scurrying up the stairs before she has a chance to notice what's in my hands.

"Okay, but make sure you throw your towels in the laundry hamper. I don't want them laying out again and getting all moldy," she replies.

Slamming the door shut behind me, I sit in my bathroom on the edge of the tub, smoothing out Veidt's letter and rereading it for any other subtle messages. But when it comes right down to it, I guess I know what I have to do. Sighing, I rub my eyes, feeling my contacts burn against my irises.

Tonight will be a long night.

_**Rylie**_

"Alright, we've got popcorn- take that, thank you," I murmur, handing the popcorn bowl to Walter, who is sitting on my bed. "And three fabulous cream cheese danishes from the one and only Muncher's bakery. And three Dr. Peppers," I announce, setting down the snacks I've gathered.

"Miss Prepared," Eddie mutters, lighting the last candle and blowing out the match.

"Better than getting caught with your pants down," I quip.

Eddie looks up at me and glares. "Okay, that happened _once," _he growls.

"Just one time is all it takes to scar someone for life," Walter mutters, walking past Eddie and swiping his hat right off his head.

Eddie gasps and swings around, snatching his hat back and holding it close to his body. "How dare you open a space man's helmet on an uncharted planet? My eyeballs could have been sucked from their sockets!" he fumes and I giggle.

Walter draws back and gives him a strange look. "...What?"

"Haven't you ever seen 'Toy Story'?" Eddie asks.

"No..."

"Man, what kind of kid were you?"

Walter smirks, as if enjoying some inside joke, and then he shakes his head at Eddie. "I was never a kid."

I snort, nodding fervently in agreement. "I can see that." Walter grimaces at me and I grin back at him, then turn to Eddie. "Besides, Walter wasn't a kid when 'Toy Story' was around, remember?"

"Oh...right," Eddie mumbles and then shakes his head. "You know how weird it is to know somebody who's supposed to be dead?"

Walter shrugs. "Well, have you met Dr. Manhattan?" he replies.

Eddie pauses and then nods. "Oh, yeah...Good point."

"Well, if you two are _quite _done discussing dead men, shall we watch this movie or not?" I interrupt, turning on the TV and pressing play.

So we sit on my bed and watch 'Halloween'. And even though I've seen the movie a million times (and considering I'd first seen it- and loved it- when I was three), I end up getting into it and scooting close to Walter for protection.

You know. Just in case Michael Myers decides to come breaking down the door and hacking me to death. I'm pretty sure my Walter could take him.

_**Dan**_

"Dan."

I turn at the sound of his voice. The wind whistles across the rooftops. The view from the roof of Veidt's building is exquisite- something only money could buy. The city lights around us illuminate the skyline, glittering silently. Even though I'm expecting him, I'm not expecting what he's wearing.

He's in his old costume, wearing his old mask. I blink, taking a step back. For a second, I remember meeting him for the first time. I remember how intimidated I was, how daunted. I curl my lip. Not anymore.

He smiles at me. "It's been too long," he continues, his voice soft, as though we're brothers returning to each other after years spent apart. Then he opens his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Do you like it?" he asks, referring to the costume. "It's vintage. I thought the nostalgia might make this meeting easier."

I snarl slightly under my breath. "What do you want, Veidt?" I demand. I want to get right to the point.

For a second, he looks genuinely hurt. But I can't tell for sure because of the mask. "Now, Dan. Don't be that way," he says gently. "I'm your friend, remember?"

"You stopped being my friend when you killed all those people. I'm not friends with murderers," I growl. I'm dimly aware that I've begun to circle him, my body tensed like an animal's before the hunt.

He watches me, and behind his mask I see his eyes glint. "Oh, really?" he replies, sounding surprised. "Well, what about Rorschach?"

That pulls me up short. I stop, my body rigid, and stare at him. "What did you say?" I ask slowly.

"Well, I'm just referring to the numerous counts of murder that your partner has been held accountable for," he explains, shrugging.

Fury pulses through me, hot and nasty. I want to lunge at him and break that arrogant neck of his but I stop myself. "You don't say _anything _about him, okay? You didn't know him and you never will," I snap. "Besides, _you _were the one who murdered countless innocents for power."

He holds up one hand. "Ah, Dan, I'll have to stop you there. You seem to have misunderstood. I did not kill them for power. Trust me, I regret every life that I took every moment of everyday. But it was necessary. And let's not make this about the innocent and the guilty. You and I both know that I destroyed good people _and _bad people that day. It was fair-"

"_Fair?" _I snarl, interrupting him. "You think that was_ fair? _Let me tell you something, Veidt," I growl, getting right in his face now. "Fairness would be to hang you in front of the people you murdered and let them watch you choke. Fairness would be to let them tear you limb from limb."

"Dan," he replies, his voice infuriatingly calm. "Are you sure you're not letting your friend's death color your judgement?"

It takes all of the restraint in my body not to punch him right then and there. But I know that if I punch him now, I won't stop there, and if it comes to an all-out brawl I know I won't be able to hold my own against him. Even when I'd been younger, I'd never been strong enough.

Stepping away from him, I shake my head. "You're pathetic," I murmur and turn my back on him. I've had enough. I start to walk away.

"Don't you want to know how your partner's doing?"

I stop. Slowly I turn, trying to keep a poker face. "Partner? What partner?" I demand, trying to sound impatient. My blood has gone cold.

Veidt gives me a look. "Now, Dan, don't play games. I know you know what I'm talking about. Your partner," he says.

"Laurie-"

"Laurie is your _wife," _he interrupts. "I'm talking about your _partner." _Then he sighs, as forced to explain something for the tenth time to a two-year-old who refuses to listen. "Rorschach."

I try not to wince at his name. "Have you gone completely insane, Veidt?" I demand after a second, trying to force all of my disgust for the man into my voice.

"Daniel, listen to me," he growls roughly, his eyes hard. The change in his tone startles me. "If I don't have Rorschach in my possession soon, I will be sending men in to retrieve him. And trust me, I don't need Rorschach brought in _alive, _catch my drift?"

I want to feel rage but all I feel is cold. My veins feel like ice. The threat echoes in my head. I can barely move my lips to speak. "What are you talking-"

"Daniel, you have been warned," he interrupts impatiently, almost urgently. "God help him if you don't heed it."

I don't need to ask to know that the 'him' is Rorschach.

I watch him walk away and then disappear into the night. It's a long time before I disappear, too.

_**Rorschach**_

"Oh...oh, no...don't...no, he's in there! _Oh! _Duh! What the fuck did I just tell you, bitch?" Cadence yells, clutching onto my arm with one hand and shaking her other fist at the TV. I watch her with amusement, trying not to laugh. I've never seen her watch a scary movie before. _Is this how she always acts? _I wonder.

"Cadence," I murmur into her ear after a moment. "I don't think she can hear you."

"That's only cuz she's not- _listeningohmyGod! _You deserved that for not listening to me, you stupid cunt!" she yowls, shaking her fist angrily at the TV again.

"Rylie!" Eddie interrupts loudly, laughing and grabbing her fist. "Calm down, chica. Sheesh." Cadence turns and grins cheesily at him, and he shakes his head in mock despair. "You need a vacation, Rylie."

"Yeah, well, maybe if I had the money..." she mutters, turning back to the TV.

"Rylie," Eddie repeats and grabs her shoulder. She turns and he stares at her meaningfully. "You need a vacation."

Cadence's mouth falls open wide with shock and her eyes gleam excitedly. "Oh my God, seriously? Oh my God!" she squeals, pulling Eddie to his feet and jumping up and down ecstatically.

I watch them, horribly confused and annoyed that I don't know what they're talking about. Finally they stop and shrug, looking at them. "So. What is it that I missed in your secret communication?" I inquire. There is a bite to my tone that I know Cadence will hear.

She turns to me, uninhibited by my sharpness, and replies, "Every year, Malcom takes Eddie and I on a trip to Colorado. Except this year, we thought we wouldn't be able to go because Malcom's really busy right now. But I guess we can!"

"Yeah, Malcom arranged it so that the people he has to meet will meet him in Colorado instead of him meeting them in New York," Eddie explains, grinning. He only has eyes for Cadence, and I can tell that he'd been looking forward to telling her this news because her happiness is important to him.

I narrow my eyes. "When will you be leaving?" I ask quietly.

"In two days. So pack quick, chica," Eddie says, elbowing Cadence.

I want to be happy that Cadence is happy, but all I can think about is that she will be with Eddie for however long they'll be gone. Who knows what they'll get up to in that time? I'm well aware of her feelings for him, and I haven't missed the gleam in his eyes when he looks at her. Fury at the thought of him trying to do anything to her fills me to the brim, and suddenly I am clenching my fists so hard they tremble.

"So you've just become vigilantes. And you're abandoning your duties to go on vacation?" I growl and shake my head. "I haven't taken a vacation since I started."

Eddie glares at me. "Yeah, well, it's not _our _fault that your obsessed with this thing. Look, if you have a problem-"

"No, I don't have a problem," I snap but I stand up and face him. "I just think you should take your responsibilities more seriously."

"Guys, _guys!" _Cadence yells, stepping in between us. "Calm down." Then she turns to me, looking confused. "Look, if you don't want me to go-"

"No. Go. You want to go, you go. Doesn't matter to me," I interrupt rigidly and march toward the window.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she hollers, running over to me and grabbing my arm. I stop, one leg out the window, the rest of my body prepared to slide out onto the nearest branch of the tree. She looks at me, and her blue eyes are glimmering with hurt and worry. "Don't be mad," she pleads. "It's just for a week. I'll be back. I promise."

For a second, I hesitate. I want to crawl back in through her window and finish the movie with her. I want to talk with her and laugh when she overreacts to something in the movie. I want to see that hurt disappear from her eyes. But after a moment, I shake my head at her and growl, "Promises are worthless. I'll believe you when I see you on patrol."

And then, without waiting for a response, I jump down onto the tree and disappear as quickly as I can.

_**Dan**_

_Daniel,_

_Your son Eddie and his friend Cadence have become vigilantes. They have decided to call themselves Sideswipe (Eddie) and the Patriot (Cadence). I'm sorry if this angers you, but this is not your decision. It's their's. Don't worry, I don't let them patrol on their own just yet. I stay with them every night. I won't let anything happen to them. Just thought you ought to know._

I glare down at the little double-R insignia at the bottom. _Damn you, Rorschach, _I think furiously. For a moment, I consider taking Archie and flying down to Lawrence to strangle the little bastard. But I know that won't solve anything, as much as I'd like it to.

_Yet another note I'll have to hide from Laurie, _I think disgustedly, opening my underwear drawer and sliding this note down to the bottom to sit with Veidt's.

And then I get to thinking. There's no doubt in my mind that Jon had to have sent this note. There's just no other way it could have ended up on _my _side of the bed, on _my _pillow, waiting just for me. So what if there's some way I can contact Jon? I know it's a long shot- a _very _long shot- but maybe there's a way.

There are questions I need to ask him, questions I need answers to. Because, with Rorschach's new life and his new friends, something doesn't add up. He remembers _me _but...does he remember anyone else? There were so many things in his former life, so many people, so many catalysts...

Does he remember her? Does he remember what happened to her? He must not because he still seems pretty normal.

My heart beats a painful meter in my chest. When he _does_ remember...God help us all.

_One of these days, letters are gonna fall_

_From the sky, I'm telling your soul_

_To go free_

_But until that day, I'll find a way_

_To let everybody know that you're coming back_

_You're coming back for me._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so! Hope you liked the chapter. Glad to see I still have some of my readers on board :) Again, I apologize for the delay. Just a little warning: the next chapter will be pretty fluffy by Watchmen standards. I mean, this one was pretty light, too, but it also had those little Adri/Dan excerpts so it wasn't totally pointless. But, anyway... Sorry :P I promise they won't always be like that (especially with ole' Rory in the picture). Anyway, please review!


	30. Thirty

NOTE: This chapter requires the song "XO" by Fall Out Boy for the scene where Eddie and Rylie are being chased around the motel at the end. :) And thank you so much to all of you who have been reviewing, you guys are awesome!

30. It's Ridiculous, But... (Even a Thousand Miles Away, I Can't Stop Thinking Of You)

_**Rylie**_

"Hey, Rylie, I can see the mountains from here!" Eddie exclaims, nudging me with his elbow and pointing.

Peering out the windshield, I can barely see the mountain off in the western horizon. They blend in well with the gray-blue backdrop of twilight. I smile and sit back in my seat, feeling a wave of excitement. I love Colorado. We've been coming here since before I can remember; we even came here while Eddie and I still lived in New York.

"What do you want to do first when we get there?" he inquires, sitting back and leaning into me.

"Well, that depends. Malcom, when do you think we'll get to our motel?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe two hours," Malcom replies.

"Then we'll get there at around eleven, so there's not really much _to _do..." I reply skeptically. But Eddie gives me a mischievous look that instantly has me suspicious. Whatever he has planned can't possibly be something Malcom would approve of. But he remains quiet and so do I. I pull out my ipod, giving Eddie one earphone and taking the other for me, and then I turn it on and press "shuffle".

The first song that comes up is 'Sleepyhead'. Immediately, my thoughts fly to Walter. I miss him. After he'd left my house angry two nights ago, we hadn't seen each other. I would have liked to have gone looking for him on patrol, but I'd been busy helping Malcom and Eddie with the vacation preparations. I sigh heavily and stare out the window, watching the scenery fly by and wishing Walter were here with me to see it.

When we pull into the motel parking lot, it's five past eleven. Everyone else is in their rooms, so the three of us remain as quiet as possible as we sneak upstairs to ours. And then Malcom surprises me when he hands me a key and grins. I look up at him, blinking. "Um...this is the wrong room number..." I tell him, pointing at the key in my hand which is, indeed, for the wrong room.

But he shakes his head. "Nope. I bought two rooms. One for you, one for Eddie and I," he explains.

I break into a huge, excited grin. "I get my own room?" I exclaim, shocked.

He nods. "Yep. I figured you wouldn't want to share a room with us ruffians," he says, ruffling Eddie's hair. Eddie glares up at him sullenly and I blink, confused by his mood. Doesn't he know how generous it is that his stepbrother gave me a separate room?

Still smiling, I wrap my arms around Malcom and hug him. "Thank you," I murmur.

"There is, however, a door on the inside of your room that connects with ours, as we're next door. They use these two rooms as a suite when they need to. So if you need us, just come over," Malcom says. "Anyway. Goodnight. See you in the morning."

"Okay. Goodnight," I respond and then swipe the card key in the slot. Stepping into my room, I breathe in deeply. There's always something so mysteriously refreshing about the smoky smell of a motel room, perhaps just because I associate it with good memories. Sighing, I flop onto my bed without putting anything away and stare up at the ceiling. Immediately my body relaxes into the mattress and it takes a lot of effort not to nod off right then and there.

After a while, though, there's a knock at the door. Blinking, puzzled, I open my door and peer out. Eddie grins back at me. "What are you doing here? Aren't you tired?" I ask him.

"The moment you start getting tired at eleven is the exact moment you stop being a kid," Eddie replies and then motions me outside. "Now, c'mon! Malcom's taking a shower, so we don't have much time. Let's go!"

"Go where?"

"I wanna go exploring," he insists. "Have you checked the little map on your door? This motel is like a frickin' maze! Let's go!"

"Oh, but-"

"No 'buts', let's go," he repeats, grabbing my arm and yanking me out the door.

"Wait, I need my key!" I protest, barely stopping the door form closing with the toe of my shoe. Then, leaning inside, I grab my key and then follow Eddie out into the hallway.

And the more we explore, the more I start to believe him about the maze thing. The halls are labyrinthical, intricate, and we get lost several times. We find the pool, which is closed but looks amazing. We find a game room, complete with pool and air hockey table, to which Eddie and I instantly challenge each other. Of course, we don't have time to play tonight but tomorrow, I swear silently to myself I'll win at both.

And then we find the aspen room.

"Aspen room? What the hell is an aspen room?" Eddie hisses to me as I peer in through the double doors. It's dark inside, but the whole wall opposite me is filled with windows, letting in the light from the rising moon outside. It gleams on the floor, illuminating the small space to the right that must be wood or tile.

Curiously, I pull open the door and sneak inside, with Eddie following close behind. And as my vision slowly adjusts to the limited light, I open my mouth in amazement. "It's a ballroom," I whisper, looking around in wonder. It's small, but no less elegant. The space off to my left is carpeted and must be used as the dining area, while the floor off to my right is wood and separated from the carpet by three tall pillars.

Grinning, I step onto the wood floor, feeling it smooth and cold under my bare feet. And then I twirl in a light pirouette, rising from _plie' _to _demi-pointe. _When I come down, I smile at Eddie and he smiles back. "This place is _beautiful," _I murmur, completely won over by this room, which has so quickly become my dance floor.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, walking over to me and wrapping one arm around my waist.

I turn to him and put a hand to his chest. "Tomorrow. We need to come here and dance," I tell him, though it comes out more like an order.

He shrugs. "Whatever you want, babydoll," he replies easily, resting his chin on my head. "But we should get back. Malcom's probably finishing his shower."

When we get to our rooms, Eddie hugs me goodnight. I swoon but feel I'm missing something as I step into my room. Prancing light on my feet, still floating from dancing in the aspen room, I cross the room to the door that leads out to the balcony. The air outside is cool and dry, much different from the warm, humid air of Kansas. Shivering, I lean out over the railing, looking up at the sky which has taken on a faint navy tint from the moon's glow in the eastern horizon. Stars glitter above distantly, and I think of Walter.

_It's so beautiful here, _I think. _I wish he could see it. _

And _that's _what I'm missing. _That's _what has me clutching at myself in the middle of the night, wrapped in blankets but unable to feel comfortable. And that's who I dream about when I finally manage to fall asleep.

_~r.~_

"Rylie."

"Mmmhm."

"Rylie!"

"Mmmawha...?" I blink my eyes open, thick with sleep. Eddie leans over me, a foolish grin on his face. Briefly, I wonder if I'm dreaming. "Eddie? What do you want?" I mumble.

"C'mon, let's go swimming!" he hisses, eyes gleaming excitedly.

I stare at him, my mouth open in shock, my eyes still bleary from sleep. "_What?" _I look over at the clock on my nightstand and then turn back to him. "_What?" _I repeat. "It's five o'clock in the fuckin' morning, Eddie! Go back to sleep." Growling under my breath, I turn over and pull the covers up over my head.

But Eddie yanks them back and pulls me back into my original position. "Yeah, it's the perfect time. C'mon, haven't you ever gone swimming early in the morning?"

"No, and I don't want to," I snap back. "Besides, the pool doesn't open until 7:30."

"Yeah, that makes this more fun."

Hesitating, I stare at him and then I groan loudly. "Oh, _fine, _you asshole," I snarl, throwing off the covers and stalking into the bathroom to throw my swimsuit on. Eddie lets out a little "Yay!" and I roll my eyes. "C'mon, let's go," I mutter, grabbing my key and marching out the door.

As we're walking down the hall, Eddie starts pulling off his jeans and I gape at him. "What are you doing?" I shriek.

"Shh!" he hisses, hopping on one foot. "I'm changing into my swim trunks."

"Eddie, those are your _boxers!" _I hiss back.

"Yeah, so? No one will know the difference."

"Yeah, cuz no one'll _be _there," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, I don't need your sass right now, missy."

"You love my sass."

"Well, I love your something-that-rhymes-with-sass-"

"Eddie!"

_**Rorschach**_

In the morning, just after I've returned to the warehouse and changed out of my costume, I climb onto the roof and watch the sunrise. I'm not sure why at first. I've never done this before. But as I watch the pastel colors morph and change slowly in the sky, I become aware of a few things.

One: I had a horrible patrol tonight, almost letting three men escape.

Two: I could not keep my thoughts from drifting to Cadence.

The fact that she is currently somewhere in Colorado, spending time with the boy who wants to take away her virginity, is a very pressing concern in my mind that overshadows everything else. There's this fear that's fluttering inside me, a fear that some part of me knows is irrational but that I simply cannot erradicate. What if she returns and tells me she is pregnant- for _real _this time?

But it's not just the fear. I've grown accustomed to her company. I've gotten too familiar with our routine- walking to her house at noon, training till three, then a short break in which we either read or watch movies, then more training, and then patrolling. It's just strange to walk the city without Cadence by my side.

Watching the colors play in the eastern sky, the sun peering over the rim of the horizon, I let my thoughts drift. I should get some sleep but the sunrise is so beautiful... The soft pink is like the sweet, gentle glow of Cadence's blush. The shining cream is like the hue of her skin. The sunlight like the unquenchable gleam in her eyes...

I stop myself, furious that I can't stop worrying about her. _She'll be fine. She's no idiot. She won't sleep with Edward, _I tell myself, flustered and aimlessly frustrated. The beast inside rumbles and rolls over restlessly.

Turning my back on the sunrise, I climb back down into the warehouse to sleep and hopefully escape Cadence for a few hours.

_**Rylie**_

"Will you stop splashing me right in the face?" I demand, glaring at Eddie.

"Aw, but that's no fun," he replies, grinning insolently at me.

I roll my eyes and then nod toward the hot tub. "You wanna try that out?"

His eyes gleam. "Hell yeah!" Then, with a large splash aimed specifically at my face, he swims over to the pool ladder and climbs out. I follow more slowly, admiring his muscles as he walks.

Then as I sink into the hot, bubbling water, sighing in pleasure, I let my mind drift to Walter. I wonder what he's doing right now and if he's thinking of me. After a moment, Eddie touches my chin lightly with his fingertips. "Hey, girlie. Where are you now?" he asks quietly, his blue eyes knowing.

I sigh. "Sorry, I don't mean to think about Walter all the time. I just hate how we left things," I confess.

"Hey, he's an adult. He'll get over it. Just forget about him right now and let the bubbles take you away," he says, smiling at me and leaning back against the edge of the hot tub. I try to smile back but it comes out wrong on my face. Eddie sighs, opening his mouth to say something else. But before he can, the door opens and a man leans in.

"Hey!" he yells, glaring at us. "You aren't supposed to be in here! How'd you get in here?" he demands, marching over to us.

"The door was unlocked, sir," Eddie replies, looking up at the man with an innocent expression plastered onto his face.

"Didn't you read the sign? The pool doesn't open until 7:30. You're not allowed in here," the man continues sternly, glaring at Eddie distrustfully.

"Well, gee, we're sorry," Eddie drawls, though he sounds anything but sorry. "But maybe you shouldn't leave your door unlocked."

"You two need to get out right now. Come back later when the pool's open," the man orders.

"What are you gonna do if we don't? Cuz, honestly, it's pretty close to opening time. Why don't we just stay and say we left?"

"Sir, you need to leave right now."

"What makes you the boss of me, huh? I don't have to leave, this is a free country!"

"Eddie, come on, let's go," I whisper, grabbing his arm and pulling him up out of the hot tub.

"No, I got a bone to pick with this guy!" he replies and then points a finger at the man as I drag him away. "Hey, you want I should call your manager? You don't have the right to kick us out!"

"Actually, he kind of does," I murmur in his ear, tugging him back with one hand and opening the door behind me with the other.

"Man, you don't have the right! Imma get you!" he yells right before the door slams behind us.

"Eddie, come _on!" _I hiss, giving him one last tug as we stumble into the hall. It takes me a moment to realize Eddie's laughing but when I do I throw him an indignant glare. "Is this _funny _to you?" I demanded.

"Oh, tone it down a little, drama queen. I'm just havin' some fun," Eddie groans, rolling his eyes. He pulls me to a stop and turns to face me.

"Stirring up shit, you mean," I mutter.

"You know that's what I do best," he says, grinning at me and tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I look up at him then. He's still smiling at me, his eyes dark and smoldering, and I want to kiss him so much. I blush and look away, knowing that if I don't I _will _kiss him.

Eddie sighs and then perks up. "Hey. C'mon, let's go to the aspen room!" he exclaims.

I blink. "Do you think it's open?"

"Oh, who gives a shit? C'mon!" He starts to tug me down the hall.

"Oh, Eddie, c'mon, let's just go back to our rooms and chill. I'm not in the mood to get in trouble today," I moan, planting my feet and trying to prevent him dragging me.

"Just come _on!" _he growls, each word punctuated by a tug on my arm. Finally he gives up and just sweeps me up into his arms. I let out a startled squeak and automatically cling to him tightly, unwilling to fall.

"Eddie!" I shriek. "Put me down!"

Eddie just laughs. "No, I don't think so. I wanna take you dancing," he says, looking down at me and grinning. I grin back, unable to help myself.

_**Dan**_

"You wanted to speak to me?" The voice is so alien and yet so entirely familiar that I feel nostalgia so strong it makes me shiver. It washes over me in waves, overwhelming, rushing.

I nod, trying to shake the odd feeling that I'm drowning. "How did you know?" I ask. "I wasn't able to contact you." When I'd gone up to the roof, the twilight sky sinking into the darkness of night, I think part of me had been expecting to see Jon, some instinctive quality within me- like when hair stands up on your body just before lightning strikes.

Still, there was enough of me that wasn't directly connected to my instincts so that I was both surprised and alarmed by the sight of Jon, standing blue and naked on my rooftop.

"I saw this happening. I saw myself coming to you," he answers simply. Then he focuses his starburst eyes on me and says, "Now. Your questions."

I nod, gather my thoughts, look him straight in the eye, and ask the most pressing question: "Does he remember?"

_**Rylie**_

We manage to dance in the aspen room in the morning without getting caught. After, we eat a quick breakfast and then Eddie and I head downtown while Malcom heads to his meeting.

We have a good time together, it's not like we don't. Eddie tries to buy everything I show the slightest bit of interest in. We eat lunch in a quiet cafe-like restaraunt and Eddie almost gets into a fight with some prissy guy. We buy a bunch of sweets at a candy shop and ride a sugar high all the way back to our motel.

But no matter what we do, no matter how happy I think I am, there's always a barrier, a ceiling that I can't break through, so that the happiness is always limited.

It's Walter. I know it's him, his absence, his distance from me. Everything feels wrong without him, like there's this emptiness at my side where he should be. I know Eddie's trying to fill it, trying to keep me occupied. But nothing can keep my thoughts from Walter.

When we get back to the motel, it's dark and rain has started to fall. People are making their way to their rooms to get some sleep. We shoot some pool and play a round of air hockey while we wait for everyone to retire. I win every game, but I'm pretty sure Eddie let's me.

And then, when it seems like the halls are quiet and everyone's in their rooms, we sneak away to the aspen room. The room is dark and we don't dare turn on the lights, but outside the rain is illuminated by the lights of the city, and it casts ghost-like shimmers onto the floor.

Eddie grabs my hand and pulls me close and we start dancing again. It starts out light and airy, just the two of us having fun, swirling around each other, quieting our short peals of laughter to quiet bell tones. For just a short time, even though I can't completely cast Walter out of my thoughts, missing him is tempered by Eddie's presence.

_**Dan**_

"I created him for the sole purpose of righting the wrongs done to your world. Right now, it's imperative that he does not remember everything," Jon says.

I feel a flicker of outrage in my chest at his answer. "And doesn't _he _get a say in any of this? It _is _his life!" I growl.

Jon just looks at me. "There's no room for his choices right now. He must stay on track. He must not be distracted," he answers.

I glare at him. "And her? Is she not a distraction?"

"She is his inspiration. He cannot do this without her."

"And my son? Why him?"

Jon levels me with his unblinking stare. "You will know in time," he says.

_**Rylie**_

Eddie starts to move more slowly, with more purpose, his hands pressing me closer to his body, touching me more, _moving _me. The heat between us is threatening, unbearable. I can't look at him directly. If I do, I know I'll lose control. I've never felt this unbelievably turned on, so ready to take a chance and confess how I feel, to kiss him, let _my _hands move him...

We spin together and the dance strengthens, becomes something deeper, something smooth and rich and sensual. Something only meant for the dark.

_**Dan**_

I lose it then. "You bastard, _you tell me what happens to my son!" _I shout. "Why him?"

Jon doesn't flinch. "Even if I told you," he says slowly, "You couldn't change any of it."

I stop. My blood goes cold and my heart goes numb. For a moment, I can't make my mouth move. "What's going to happen?" I finally ask hoarsely.

"Nothing that isn't _supposed _to happen," Jon replies.

Tears prick my eyes and I angrily wipe them away. "You make it stop. You started this and you _fuckin make it stop!" _I cried, struggling to keep myself under control; I knew it would do no good to try to punch him.

Jon doesn't reply for a moment and I look up at him pleadingly. The anger is still there, but anger never got me anywhere. "Please. Stop this," I whispered.

_**Jon**_

Dan Dreiberg looks at me and there is desperation in his eyes. "Please," he says. "Stop this."

I shake my head. "I can't stop it."

Down on Earth, two dancers twirl close together. The rhythm between them increases. But they are the wrong dancers.

"I have no control over your fate or your son's fate or even my own," I continue.

"Then why even bother? Why bring him back? Why send him to Earth? _Why do anything?_" Dan cries. I can tell he is desperate for explanation. He seeks something he will never understand.

The two dancers love each other. But they are not meant for each other. Perhaps in another life, in another time. But this is not the dancing I am waiting for.

Dan looks up at me. His eyes are watery with tears. I cock my head to the side slightly, examining them. I haven't seen tears in a long time. "Is there no hope?" he whispers. His voice is so quiet I can barely hear him.

I look at him for a moment and remember. I remember her soft hand in mine, how she looked at me with eyes filled with tears, how they made salty trails down her cheeks. She had looked as desperate and pleading as Daniel, needing some reassurance that everything would be alright.

I remember what she taught me.

"Maybe there isn't," I answer. "But maybe there is. I don't know anymore how to be human. I don't know how to change things. I don't know how to stop them." Then I lay my hand on Dan's shoulder; I can't remember if this is a comforting human gesture or not but I think it is. "But maybe you can," I tell him.

Dan looks at me, and his eyes fill with hope. I know that I've given him what is sure to be a false hope. I've never known any preordained path to change.

But I don't know all the paths. And this is his son. Dan deserves a bit of hope.

He smiles at me, and a tear makes its way down his face. "Thank you," he whispers. The words pass through me like I'm made of water.

Down on Earth, the dance ends.

_**Rylie**_

I pull us both to a jarring halt, breathing hard. I place my hand gently against Eddie's chest and look down, refusing to look at him while we're so close.

"What's wrong?" he asks, sounding both worried and impatient.

I shake my head. "N-nothing. Nothing's wrong. But we should probably get back. Malcom's probably done with his meeting by now," I reply.

Eddie is silent for a moment and I can feel the argument brewing in him but he finally just sighs and nods. "Yeah, you're probably right. I think we-"

Suddenly, the door begins to open. "_Shit!" _we hiss in unison and dive under one of the counters that was probably used to prepare food for the parties held in here. Light from the hallway floods the room. Voices come with it but I can't make out what they're saying. Eddie and I curl closer together, trying to keep completely hidden in the tight, cramped space under the counter.

And then a light is flipped on in the room. Suddenly everything is brighter and it's terribly obvious to Eddie and I that anyone will be able to see us if they walk around to this side of the counter. The voices grow closer. Eddie and I exchange a glance and then I shrug, smiling meekly. Eddie grins back and it's clear he's enjoying this. I roll my eyes and then, with one last nod, we explode out from under the counter and race past the two men in the room with us.

As we race past them and out of the aspen room, one of them shouts and I recognize the man from the pool this morning. I can't help laughing out loud. Eddie glances over at me and smiles. I smile back, filled with recklessness, and then, deciding I've got nothing to lose, I turn and shout, "Can't catch us, motherfuckers!"

And so we race down the halls of the maze-like motel, up and down stairs, skidding to a stop to decide to take a sudden turn, or backtracking until we realize we've run into our pursuers again. There aren't many people out and about but those who are stare, surprised and puzzled. Some even look mildly amused.

Finally we reach our rooms. Eddie throws me my key, unlocks his door, and gives me a quick salute. "See ya, chica!" he says and then ducks into his room. Grinning, I unlock my door and duck inside before either of our pursuers can reach us.

I stand in the middle of my room for a moment, trying to catch my breath and slow my accelerated heartbeat. I can't erase the smile from my face. And that's when I hear a knock on the wall. I smile wider and shake my head, then head over to the wall and knock back.

We continue like this for a few minutes, rapping out beats on the walls with our knuckles, exchanging drum beats from songs we love until I hear Malcom on the other side of the wall. "Will you two stop that before you wake everyone from hear to Kansas?" he growls.

I laugh and shout through the wall: "Sorry, Malcom!" I can almost see him massaging his temple in exasperation.

It's easy for me to fall asleep that night, but Walter's still the last thing on my mind.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I really hope to get the next chapter out tonight but, unless I can get my ADD under control I don't think that's gonna happen :P But, hey, you never know. I'm watching "Watchmen" right now to lend me inspiration and I've got a Dr. Pepper; miracles _could _happen :) Not much action in this chapter, there might be in the next, I don't know, it depends. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope to get the next chapter out to you soon! Please review


	31. Thirty One

NOTE: This chapter requires the song "Pushing Me Away" by Linkin Park for the part where Rory joins the fight. Enjoy! :)

31. It's Ridiculous, But... (I Kept Your Voodoo Doll)

_**Rylie**_

Eddie, leaning casually against the wall behind him, looks at me as he plays the piano and smiles. "I almost forgot how beautiful this place was," he says.

I smile and glance down through the banister at the small pews lined up beneath us. The stained glass windows let in a myriad of colored light, making the place seem quiet and warm and cheerful.

St. Catherine of Siena is a tiny stone church, built in the early 1900s. Malcom, Eddie, and I had found on one of our vacations a few years back. We'd gotten lost coming out Rocky Mountain National Park and had come upon it, quite suddenly, around a curve in the road.

It _is _beautiful and very small, nestled into the crook of the mountainside and rising above a small pool on one side. It still holds mass and people still have weddings in it, but when there isn't a sermon going on the church is a tourist attraction.

However not many people know about it at all and that's why it's one of our favorite tourist attractions. Usually it's just me and Eddie and sometimes Malcom there, and on these occasions Eddie will always go up to the balcony and play the piano for me.

As he comes to the end of a classical piece, the song morphs through a bridge and changes into "Neutron Star Collision". I turn, throwing a soft smile in Eddie's direction. He smiles back but doesn't say anything, continuing to play.

When he finishes, he looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. I raise an eyebrow but remain quiet. Eventually he turns to me, smiling. "You know, we should get the band back together," he says.

The comment surprises me so much that, at first, I can't find the words to respond. But Eddie is looking at me expectantly and I know he needs an answer, so I just offer up a meek "Yeah?"

He gives me a disapproving look. "That wasn't very convincing," he says.

"That's because I'm not convinced," I reply.

"Why not?"

I stare at him for a moment. "Don't you think we have _enough _on our plate with patrolling and training and trying to start a revolution, not to mention we have to prepare for senior year?We don't have _time _for a band," I say.

Though those reasons, I think, are good enough, there are still other reasons, ones that I leave unspoken between us. Almost two years ago, Malcom's wife, Samantha, had been killed by a gang. Malcom had been devastated to say the least and he hadn't been the same ever since. Eddie and I had been heartbroken, too, because Samantha was not only Eddie's sister-in-law but also our biggest supporter.

Eddie and I had formed a small, three-person band with a kid from New York named Maury. Maury had played the drums, Eddie had been lead guitar and back-up vocals, and I'd had lead vocals. We hadn't been very good since I couldn't play any instrument except clarinet. But Samantha had always listened to us play, had always supported us and told us that we could make something of ourselves if we just kept trying.

Then I'd moved to Kansas in 2008 and the band had been forced to split up. I had been sad but I couldn't kid myself; we just hadn't been very good.

I'd met Damien and Jimmy almost as soon as I moved to Lawrence. It was as though we automatically drifted toward each other because we all had the same interest- to be in a rock band. It was perfect- Damien played the drums and Jimmy played bass. And when Eddie moved to Lawrence with Malcom and Sam a year later, I knew it was meant to be, it just _had _to be.

Samantha had been busy arranging our very first gig for us when she'd been killed. It had been a small venue, no big shakes, but we had been psyched about it. But as Sam was walking home that night after getting everything set up, gang members had dragged her into an alley, raped her and then left her behind a dumpster to die.

After that there had been no more rock band. Though we'd all stayed close friends we all refused to discuss what had once been the dream we'd all shared. We sure as hell never mentioned it in front of Malcom.

So it was a complete shock to me when Eddie not only mentioned the band but suggested we reform.

Eddie is silent for a moment, looking down at the floor as though trying to decide how to word something. Finally he looks up at me, and his brown eyes are both earnest and sad. "I don't think Samantha would mind," he murmurs.

I narrow my eyes against the tears and brace myself against the pain. Samantha had been like a sister to me. "It's not Samantha I'm worried about," I mutter gruffly.

Eddie frowns. "I don't think Malcom would mind either," he says, but I can tell he isn't completely convinced.

I shake my head. "Eddie, we can't. It's not..." I sigh impatiently. "It won't work."

"Why is it everytime I have a great idea you have to go all pessimistic on me?" Eddie grumbles.

I glare at him. "Maybe it's because all of your ideas suck?" I mutter in reply.

Eddie looks at me sharply, indignant. "Oh, like my idea to become vigilantes? That sucked, huh?" I blush but don't say anything. "Come on, Rylie. What can it hurt? I mean, being in a band was our dream for a long time. Don't you remember how much we wanted that?"

I look away, out the stained glass windows. "We wanted a lot of things, Eddie," I say quietly.

"Rylie, I _know _we can do this. I _know _it! C'mon, won't you even give it a try?" he urges me.

I'm silent for a long time. There's a gleam in Eddie's eyes, a strange mixture of hope and confidence, almost as if he actually _does _know things will work out and he's just waiting for my approval. And deep inside of me, I can almost feel it, too, the emotion in his eyes.

_This is ridiculous, _I think to myself. But how can I resist the look on Eddie's face?

With a reluctant sigh, I shake my head. "We are not doing anything half-assed," I begin, and before I can go any further Eddie claps his hands together, arcs his body to the ceiling and yells a silent "Yes!" I hold my hands up impatiently to shush him. "Listen. We either fit this into our schedule and turn it into something, or we don't do it at all."

Eddie nods fervently. "Yeah, yeah, totally, that's cool. If it doesn't go anywhere, we quit. I promise," he says quickly.

I point at him sharply. "And we _don't _tell Malcom. Understand?" I growl. The threat in my voice is entirely real.

Eddie nods, his expression sobering some. "Yeah, I understand." He pauses for a moment and then clarifies. "Unless we actually make something of it," he says.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, like that'll happen," I mutter. We're stretching to make it as vigilantes; it's pushing things to assume we could ever do this, too. But I know that look on Eddie's face. "C'mon," I sigh, feeling old in comparison to Eddie's naivety/hopefulness. "Malcom said we need to be in Glenwood by three."

_**Dan**_

The dark clouds, which have been gathering since noon, unleash the storm at the precise moment they attack us. It is a perfectly synchronized move.

They must have been waiting for hours. As soon as Laurie and I step into the alley from the back entrance we sometimes use, they jump out at us. Suits everywhere, more than I ever remember seeing at one time. Laurie and I automatically shift into our fighting positions- back-to-back, keeping our eyes always locked on the enemy. The slowly spinning eye of a storm.

They don't waste any time with words. They just point their tasers and guns at us, take aim, and fire. We dodge out of the way, but even though we're not close enough to touch anymore, we always keep our backs to each other.

Rain begins to fall and soaks through our clothes. But our muscles burn with adrenaline and exertion and I don't even feel the rain. All that I feel is the single-minded determination to protect my home, my wife, and my life.

_**Rorschach**_

Manhattan wakes me at three in the afternoon.

_Walter, _he says. _Wake up. You're needed._

I sit up immediately and my thoughts fly to Cadence. _What's wrong? _I demand roughly. If anything's happened to her...

_Cadence is fine. But Dan needs your help, _Manhattan says.

That brings me up short. _Daniel _needs my help? For a moment, I don't know what to think. But after the moment passes all I can think about is Daniel's safety. I narrow my eyes. _What's going on? _

_He and Laurie are under attack from the suits. My energy signature was detected last night at Dan's apartment. They think it's you, _he explains.

My blood runs cold. _You came here? You went to Daniel? You put him in _danger? The last sentence comes out as a threatening snarl. I'm outraged. I'm furious. How could Manhattan be so stupid?

_It was supposed to happen, _he responds. Always so lifeless. Always so cold. He doesn't care. He doesn't care about any of us.

I have a million things running through my head all at one time, words pressed to the tip of my tongue, fury beating in my chest. But none of that matters right now. I'll deal with Manhattan later. Daniel needs me.

_Take me to him, _I growl.

A split second later, the world around me disappears in a bright flash of blue.

_**Dan**_

I'm not precisely sure when things started to go bad, but I know that after they do, suddenly I'm not sure we we'll be able to win this fight. There are too many suits, too much rain, and not enough room. In the middle of the fight, I catch Laurie's eye and I can see she shares my same convictions.

I don't see the gun when it comes down on my temple, but I sure as hell feel it. It's a sudden pain that makes my vision disappear momentarily in a burst of blinding light behind my eyes.

When my vision clears, I'm slumped on the ground. For a moment, all I can see is the rain drumming down on the concrete, and the shoes of many people all around me. I try to search for Laurie's boots but I can't see them.

It takes me a moment to realize that something cold and hard is pressed roughly to the back of my head. _A gun, _I realize quickly and I close my eyes for a moment, hanging my head slightly. Horrible, stinging disappointment washes over me at the realization that my time has finally come. I am going to die.

Laurie. She can't fight them off without me. But if I move the suit will put a bullet in my brain. I am trapped and there's nothing I can do to help her.

Eddie. Miles away from me and without my protection. If I die, I'll never see him again and I'll never have another chance to protect him.

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and memorize their faces in my mind. I want them to be the last things I see. I want to take their images with me all the way into death.

And then...

And then there is a shout. A loud shout coming from behind us. My eyes flash open. The gun disappears in that instant. Lifting my head, I turn and look behind me, and what I see makes my heart leap in my chest.

People, people I don't recognize, are fighting the suits! Some of them, I realize after a moment, are no more than kids; the youngest I see can't be any older than fifteen. Most of them are guys but some are girls. _Gang members, _I realize. _Truthers!_

Their arrival feeds me strength. Scrambling to my feet, I rejoin the fight. It doesn't take me long to find Laurie, and when our eyes meet we don't have to speak to know what the other is saying. The terror in her eyes fades. The relief sinks into me. We both vow that no matter what happens now, we will not be separated again. If we die now, at least we'll die together.

We fight with the truthers against the suits. We are no match for the suits on our own, but there are so many of us that we start to overwhelm them. The storm has darkened the world so much that the day is starting to resemble the night.

The fight begins to shift out of the alley and into the street. The rain comes down even harder.

And that's when a memory appears.

_**Rorschach**_

As soon as the tingles of electricity fade away, I feel the rain pounding down around me and I'm drenched almost immediately. I am in an alley, one I recognize immediately. It is the one bordering Daniel's apartment.

Instantly I pick up the sounds of a fight just ahead of me. My heart beats faster in my chest. I stride toward the sounds, peering through the thick rain for any sign of Daniel. The beast inside of me pushes forward, snarling. Yet at the same time it shivers because it is exposed. My mask. I don't have my mask. For a moment, panic surges through me.

But I have no time to care for myself. Daniel is in trouble. I'll have to do this without my mask.

When I come to the edge of the alley, I press myself to the wall and peer out. In the middle of the street, a large group of people writhes in the rain. I pick out the suits easily, but I can't see Daniel. My eyes search frantically while the beast prepares itself in my chest.

Finally, _finally, _I see him, standing in the middle of the fighting with Laurie. My heart aches in that moment to know that I'm not with him, fighting with him, fighting to defend him. He is so old, so weak compared to how he used to be. And there are so many of them...

Clenching my fists, I crouch down, coiling my muscles in preparation of the spring. The rain drips down my face like sweat, like tears. I focus my eyes on one man, ignoring all the rest; I have to concentrate hard to tune Daniel out but I succeed. The man I train my attention on is near Daniel, close but fighting a different person, a young male in a pale brown hoodie. Narrowing my eyes, I tense myself and prepare to spring.

When I do, it's like a burst of energy. I slam into the man in what seems like only a millisecond after I lunge at him. We careen backward. I manage to press my knees to his chest as his back skids across the pavement; rain sprays up into my face from the force.

The suit stares up at me in pain and terror. I stare back with single-minded determination, grabbing his neck between my hands. I squeeze and he chokes. But a moment later, his head smacks into the wall of a building opposite the side I've just come from. Blood seems to explode from his head and lands on my face, a splash of heat in the midst of the cooling rain. I have no need to strangle the suit. I felt the pulse come to a stuttering end under my fingers.

Standing, I turn and leap into the battle, only focusing on the men in suits. The fighting comes easily. But not being able to see if Daniel is alright is torture. I've lost him again in the midst of these fighters and the illusion of the rain. I can only see a few feet ahead of me, but it's enough.

It's in the middle of the fight that I see him. The boy from my stay here in New York, the truther. He is fighting, too, and I'm pleased to see that he's actually not too bad. Very raw, but strong and determined. He grabs the arm of a suit who is attempting to shoot another truther and, as I watch, breaks his wrist.

Then he looks up and sees me, and a huge grin spreads across his face. "Hey, it's you!" he shouts.

At the same time, a suit comes up behind him and raises his gun. Urgency pushes me forward. I surge past the boy and drive into the suit. The gun discharges harmlessly into the air. I start pounding my fist into his face mercilessly, glaring down at him furiously.

A hand on my shoulder. A soft voice by my ear. "Hey. Stop. _Stop,_" the voice murmurs, quiet but urgent. Around us, the fighting has stilled, and the air has grown quiet except for the rain and the boy's voice.

Eventually, I listen. I pull myself roughly up from the suit, turn and face the boy. He steps back, startled by my enraged expression. His eyebrows shoot up and his eyes grow wide. "What?"

I take a step toward him, closing the distance between us. Though he is younger, he is the same height as me, but I still feel as though I tower over him with the weight of my staggering anger. Jabbing my finger into his chest, I glare darkly at him. "You watch your back when you fight, you understand me? _Never _leave yourself unguarded. _Never _underestimate the enemy. Got it?" I snap.

He nods quickly, still looking terrified. "Y-yeah, I got it," he says, shrinking from me. "Sorry," he adds meekly.

Quickly, I close my eyes and breathe out, forcing my anger to settle and dissipate. _He is young, _I remind myself. _Give him time._

_"Aren't you going to tell me how, if this had been a real fight, I'd be dead right now?" _I smile as Cadence's voice drifts through my mind and then sigh, turning back to the boy. "Just be sure it doesn't happen again. I won't always be around to save you," I warn him, but there is no anger in my voice now. Only exhaustion and resignation.

The boy nods seriously. "I understand," he says. Then he smiles at me. "Thanks, man. You saved my life." He extends his hand to me, his blood-smeared face looking up at me with bright, youthful optimism. This time I know what to do. Slapping my palm against his, I grip his hand for a moment and then let go.

Stepping back, the boy grins at me. "Man, you are one badass motherfucker, you know that? One of these days, Imma be as good as you," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, yes?"

The boy nods. "Yeah." He nudges me with his elbow and adds, "You know, cuz, chicks dig scars." Then he winks at me.

I roll my eyes up to the sky and pinch my nose between my thumb and forefinger. _Lord, grant me patience..._

"Walter!"

My head snaps up at the sound of Daniel's voice. Our eyes fix on each other and I feel my body nearly sink to the ground with relief. "Daniel," I breathe and head over to him.

He embraces me the moment we're close enough; I stiffen momentarily and then, hesitantly, embrace him, too.

After a moment, he pulls away and holds me out at arm's length. "What are you doing here?" he murmurs, looking terribly confused.

I shrug and smile weakly. "Manhattan," I answer and he nods.

"Ah." I can't help noticing how his eyes seem to darken.

I frown. "What?"

But Daniel just shakes his head. "Nothing, nothing." He looks at me for a long moment and then chuckles, patting my shoulder. "Should've known you couldn't resist a fight," he mutters, then, as if realizing he's still touching me, he quickly steps away from me, flushing. "Uh...sorry. I forgot you don't...um. Sorry," he stammers.

I snort, rolling my eyes. "You apologize too much, Daniel," I mutter.

"We may not agree on much but we doagree on _that," _Laurie says, coming up behind Daniel. She gives me a wry smile and I smile just slightly back. "So. You came back to help us, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "Couldn't abandon my closest friend, now, could I, _Mrs. Hollis?_" I sneer, but there is no spite in my voice. Laurie makes a face and sticks her tongue out at me.

"Mr. Hollis? Mrs. Hollis?" All of us turn to see the boy standing there. I notice with surprise that he is staring at Daniel and Laurie with shock on his face.

"Maury?" Daniel says, sounding just as surprised.

"Aw, man, it _is _you!" Maury exclaims and a huge grin spreads across his face. "I haven't seen you guys in _years!" _

I blink, startled. "...You all know each other?"

Maury nods. "Yeah, I used to hang out with his kid all the time," he explains.

I stiffen as though someone's just hit me across the face. I look over at Daniel and he seems to know exactly what has me so shocked. He nods, looking back at me meaningfully. "Maury was friends with Eddie and Cadence before they moved," he says quietly.

Blinking, I absorb this information. Then, slowly, I turn back to Maury as a slow, amazed smile twitches at the corners of my mouth. "Well, then, Maury," I say and extend my hand. "Nice to meet you."

_**Rylie**_

"Hey, Rylie, c'mere!"

Dropping the Colorado sweatshirt in my hands, I head over to where Eddie is rummaging through a box of what looks like little dolls. When I get closer, I realize that they're voodoo dolls.

I laugh. "Aw, look at them, they're so cute!" I say, holding up a pink one.

"Yeah, cute, _and _able to seek revenge," Eddie replies. He elbows me and winks. "Sounds like you."

I snort. "Huh. No. Sounds like Walter," I mutter and then blink, realizing what I've said. Eddie looks at me, and something in his eyes seems almost...mournful. "Um...sorry. I, uh, I just was worrying about him," I say quickly, which isn't totally a lie. It's the fourth day of our vacation and I still can't keep him out of my mind.

After an awkward pause, we return to rifling through the voodoo dolls.

When I come across it, I gasp and pull it out excitedly. It's a doll that is dressed in black with a black mask and cape, and almost seems to resemble Nite Owl. "Hey, it's like your dad, but black!" I exclaim.

Eddie gives me a look of mock disappointment. "Now, Rylie," he says. "You know that my dad really is black, he just _looks _white."

"No, I mean the _costume _is black, you dork!" I laugh, hitting him across his arm.

He laughs and jumps away, holding his arm. Then he grabs the voodoo doll and reads the little name card attached to it. "'Bat Boy,'" he reads. "'Are you a night owl or work in the middle of the night? Bat Boy will protect and guard you from evil forces in the dark.'"

I gape in amazement at the little doll. "Walter!" I gasp.

Eddie looks up at me. "What?" he asks, and his voice is slightly irritated.

"I need to send that to Walter! It's _perfect," _I murmur, taking back the little doll and holding it almost reverently in my hands.

"You want to send it to Walter?" Eddie mutters dryly.

"Yeah. Now."

"_Now?_" he repeats incredulously. "Rylie, we are on _vacation!" _

"So? I can still send mail!" Suddenly I'm filled with a strange urgency. Though I know it won't _really _protect him, I still somehow feel as though he needs protection. I want to show him now that I _will _protect him. Even 700 miles away.

Eddie sighs. "Fine. You want me to find a place that does express shipping?" he asks. His voice is flat and resigned.

"Yes, please," I reply, still staring down at the little Bat Boy. _I will protect you, Walter, _I vow. _Even when we're apart._

_**Rorschach**_

"Hey, Walter! You got a package in the mail!" Daniel hollers as he steps in through the front door. I look up from where I sit at the kitchen table, eating cereal with Laurie, surprised. Mail for me?

"No one knows I'm here," I murmur.

Daniel shrugs. "It says it was shipped to Kansas first," he says, and I can tell he's thinking the same thing. Whoever sent it, it was redirected by the only person who possibly knew where I was. Manhattan.

"From Colorado," Daniel finishes and I look up at him immediately.

"Colorado?" I repeat sharply.

"Yeah...what is it?" Daniel asks, but I don't respond. Pushing myself up from my chair, I head over to him and snatch the little package from his hands. I turn it over in my hands, examine it, and my heart pounds curiously in my chest. _Cadence, _my mind whispers. I dig my fingers into the package and begin to tear it open.

What falls out, rolls into my hand, is nothing I was expecting. In truth, I hadn't known _what _to expect but it certainly wasn't this.

It's a doll, a little cloth thing dressed all in black, with a cape and a mask. _A superhero, _I think to myself wryly. Wrapped around its cloth wrist is a little tag. I hold it up and read it curiously, and then slowly I shake my head, feeling a chuckle escape my lips.

"What?" Daniel asks, taking the little doll from me. After reading the tag, he laughs, too. "Well, it seems your new little partner can't forget about you," he says.

I nod. "Yeah..." Looking down at the doll, I feel a little wriggle of warmth inside me, and though I duck my head to hide it from Daniel and Laurie, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, first of all, I'd just like to thank all of my fabulous readers. You guys are wonderful and I love reading your reviews :) Second- I know there are a lot of loose ends but I'd just like to reassure you all that I (finally) have an outline, so I know exactly how to tie those ends up. Just so that you guys don't get frustrated and leave ;D Anyway, please review!


	32. Thirty Two

NOTE: Okay, this chapter requires the piano version of "Starlight" by Muse and "Feeling This" by Blink-182 (which is the song Rylie and the band perform). And I'd just like to give a quick shout-out to all of my wonderful reviewers- you guys are awesome and even if I can't get back to you on your reviews it doesn't mean I don't appreciate them. I'm just really busy right now :P

32. Piano Chords

The second week of June hits like a freight train. Up until now it has been relatively cool, at least in respect to the heat Kansas _usually _brings. But when I wake up Monday morning, feeling the oppressive heat weighing down on me, I just smile wryly to myself and shake my head. _Welcome back, summer. You've officially arrived._

Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien arrive soon after I wake up, at around eleven. This is our first day back from vacation, and already we're getting to work. Eddie hadn't been able to wait to tell Jim and Damien about the band, and so he'd texted them about it on the ride back. Of course they'd been excited, seemingly unable to see the pitfalls of hoping for something that would never happen. But _I_ didn't want to be the downer in the group. I'd leave that to Walter.

The three of us meet in the garage like we usually do, but I'm immediately aware of a new excitement between us. Or, rather, between _them. _

Jimmy grins at me and does an excited little bounce. Despite my doubts, I have to giggle. "Something you're happy about Jimsy?" I inquire wryly.

He claps his hands together and bounces again. "This is so exciting!" he says and then he narrows his eyes. "And don't call me Jimsy. You know I hate that."

I drape my arm over his shoulder and grin at him. "Yeah, but you love me," I reply.

Jimmy sighs in exaggerated reluctance. "I _suppose..." _

"Hey, is Walter coming over at his usual time?" Damien asks, interrupting us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eddie twitch and grow rigid but I ignore it. Whatever beef he still has with Walter is not my problem.

I shrug. "I don't know. Probably," I answer.

"My dad says Walter's in New York," Eddie mutters out of the blue. He doesn't turn to look at us and his voice remains flat, resigned.

I blink, surprised. "New York?" I repeat. Then I narrow my eyes. "And you didn't think to tell me till just now?" I growl, irritated.

Eddie whips around, holding his arms out in a "well-what-else-do-you-expect-me-to-do?" kind of way. "He just called me last night and told me so _sorr-ee _for not being aware of Walter's every move," he sneers.

I stand there for a moment, completely blindsided. I struggle to understand what it is I've said that could've possibly elicited this type of response from him. Sure, I'd been a little bit obsessive over Walter lately, but that's just because I haven't been around to make sure he's safe.

While I'm staring, mouth gaping just slightly, Eddie notices my shock and his expression softens. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I'm just tired," he says. Then he holds out his arms and gives me an apologetic look- an offering.

After a moment, I take it and step into his arms. He hugs me tightly and rests his chin on my shoulder for a second. "I really am sorry, Rylie," he murmurs in my ear. "That won't happen again, I promise."

I shake my head and step away. "No, it's okay. _I'm _sorry. I've been a little obsessive lately, and I _know _that," I say.

Eddie smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes like it usually does. "I don't mind. It's a little like that phase you went through when you were obsessed with _The Lost Boys,_" he jokes.

I laugh but I can't get rid of the feeling that something is very wrong between us. But before I can say anything else, there is a loud whoosh from outside. I feel a prickle run across my skin like static electricity, and the hair stands up on my arms. The four of us exchange startled glances and that's how I know it's not just in my head.

"What the hell was that?" Damien mutters and strides over to the door.

As he reaches for the handle, the door opens and Walter steps inside. Looking around at all of us as if our routine had never been interrupted, his gaze finally settles on me and he smiles just slightly. "Good morning everyone," he murmurs, dipping his head in greeting.

I break out into a huge grin. "Hey, Walter," I reply. I feel like hugging him but I know he won't appreciate it, especially in front of the guys.

"How did you get here?" Eddie asks in a gruff, unfriendly voice. I shoot him a glare but he ignores me; his brown eyes, glinting dangerously, are fixed on Walter.

Walter narrows his eyes. "Manhattan, Edward. He brought me back here," he growls.

Eddie's expression quickly becomes enraged. "You mean he _transported_ you? Do you know how dangerous that is for us? You could bring Adrian's entire fucking _army _down on us!" he snaps.

"I'm not an idiot, Edward. I know that as well as you do. But trust me when I tell you that right now, Adrian and his _army-" _Walter sneers- "are a little preoccupied."

"Whoa, whoa, wait. What do you mean?" I ask, stepping between the two of them.

Walter keeps his glare focused on Eddie for a heartbeat longer and then turns to me, his expression relaxing. "Manhattan came to Earth to talk to Edward's father. Adrian was alerted to his energy signature and the suits attacked," he explains.

"_What?" _Eddie hisses, his eyes growing wide with horror. I glance at him anxiously, biting my lip. I know that his parents are okay- Walter wouldn't have seemed in such a good mood originally if something had happened to them- but I still know how terrifying it is to not know _for sure._

"Don't worry, they're fine," Walter reassures him. "But they needed a lot of help from some outside forces to drive off the suits."

"Outside forces?" Eddie rasps weakly.

Walter nods. "The truthers and myself," he elaborates.

For a moment, Eddie stares silently down at his feet. Then, as if he's come to a decision, he nods and looks up at Walter, his brown eyes hard and determined. "Thank you," he murmurs.

Walter shrugs. "Couldn't refuse to help your parents," he replies.

"So then what happened?" Eddie demands.

"Your parents hid me in the basement while they talked with one of Adrian's agents. Apparently they were able to work the attack in their favor by threatening to file it as an unwarranted assault; there was too much evidence of that in their favor, so they won that argument," Walter explains, sounding smug.

Eddie's lips twitch into a little smile. "Good," he mutters.

"What about the truthers? Are they okay?" I ask, unable to help feeling anxious for them.

Walter nods. "They're fine. They were able to escape without serious injury or arrest," he says. We exchange a serious glance: _Lucky, _it seems to whisper. Then he smiles at me a little. "Met a friend of yours while I was there," he adds.

I blink, surprised. "Who?"

"Maury," he answers.

I gape at him and a shocked smile spreads across my face. "_Maury?_" I repeat. "Oh my God, I haven't seen him in years!"

"You saw Maury?" Eddie chimes in.

Walter nods. "He told me to tell you both 'hi'. And that you two are...um, well, he used a few more expletives but basically that he appreciates the fact that you two are vigilantes," he says.

I grin. "Bet he's jealous."

"Huh. He's got enough going on in his life _without _being a vigilante as well," Walter mutters.

At that point, Eddie elbows me. I look at him sharply and he raises an eyebrow at me meaningfully. I shake my head almost imperceptibly but he narrows his eyes. "Which reminds me. Walter?" he says loudly, ignoring my furious look.

"Yes, Edward?" Walter's voice was suspicious and reluctant, as though he didn't really want to hear what Eddie had to tell him.

"So Rylie and I were thinking while we were on vacation that we should get our old band back together," he continues.

Walter raises an eyebrow at me and I hold up my hands defensively. "Hey, don't make it out to be _my _idea. I didn't want to do it in the first place," I interrupt quickly.

"Yeah, she doesn't think we can do it, what with patrolling and training and trying to spur on a revolution," Eddie says, waving at me dismissively.

Walter is quiet for a moment and then he shrugs. "Well, it _will_ make things busier for you, that's for sure. But it's your decision," he replies.

"It _is?_" Eddie and I chorus, our shocked expressions mirroring each other's.

He smirks slightly and nods. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your other priorities, then you do what you want to do. I won't stop you," he tells us. Eddie and I exchange a glance, both of us completely shocked. Was the world ending? Was this the seventh sign of the apocalypse?

"Well...then we were gonna start practicing today..." Eddie finally says slowly.

"Before training, yes?" Walter inquires calmly.

"Uh, yeah..."

"Alright. How long do you think you'll be? If it's more than an hour I might head into town-"

"Oh, won't you stay and watch?" I interrupt.

Walter blinks at me, surprised. "Would you like me to?"

I shuffle my feet shyly. "Well...yeah."

"Well...then I'll stay," he says quietly. I look up at him and smile gratefully. He smiles tentatively back.

"Alright, then. Let's get set up, shall we?" Eddie growls, throwing me a meaningful little glare that I take to mean "stop talking with him and hurry the fuck up".

I roll my eyes and reach up to pull down the ladder leading to the attic. Then I motion up to it and give him a look. "There. Go get our stuff," I tell him. He glares at me for a moment and then starts climbing without a word.

Jimmy and Damien, who have been watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, follow him after a moment's hesitation. Once they've all disappeared into the attic, I sigh heavily and then turn back to Walter, forcing a smile. "So," I say. "How was New York?"

"Fine. A bit eventful. But I was able to see Daniel," Walter replies and then smirks a little. "How was Colorado?"

I grin at him. "Awesome. I love Colorado."

"So I've gathered," Walter replies wryly. "By the way, I got your voodoo doll."

I blush. "Oh, yeah? Did you like it?"

He snorts. "Yeah. I appreciated the fact that you thought I wouldn't be able to take care of myself," he replies, and though his words are bitingly sarcastic there is a softer teasing note to his voice.

"Psh, I have never said that out loud," I retort and then smile at him.

Walter smiles back and opens his mouth to respond, but from up above Eddie hollers down to us. "Hey, can you give us a hand with this drum set?" So we quickly rush over to help them, grabbing the equipment as they hand it down to us.

While the band and I set up and start tuning, Walter leans back in a chair, looking more relaxed than I've ever seen him. He watches us quietly, curiously, while he munches on Frosted Flakes straight from the box. He doesn't say anything, but I can tell that he is taking in everything we're doing with a close, analytical eye, as though memorizing for future reference.

Finally we're completely set up. I look at Eddie and raise an eyebrow. "You taking lead or did you want to pull out the piano too?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "I guess we could get out the keyboard," he replies, handing me his guitar. "Be right back," he says and climbs back up into the attic.

When he hands the keyboard down to me, I happen to glance over at Walter. He is looking at the keyboard with a peculiar look on his face, one of startled remembrance. Once he notices I'm watching he quickly looks away, but that expression stays with me.

"Hey, Rylie. Before we start, can we eat really fast? I'm starving," Jimmy asks.

I groan and give him a look. "Are you _serious? _Man, why didn't you eat _before _you got here?"

"Cuz I didn't think of it before I got here," Jimmy replies in a childish voice.

With an exaggerated sigh, I rolled my eyes and shoved open the door leading back into the house. "_Fine. _I'll fix you guys some lunch and then we have to get back to work," I mutter, leading a procession of excitedly bouncing, hungry teenage boys into the house.

_**Rorschach**_

When I see the keyboard, a strong sense of deja vu washes over me. I am in a small, crowded apartment and it is early daytime; I can tell by the delicate way the sun shines in through the window. I am sitting at a piano and someone is sitting next to me, instructing me patiently. There is something familiar about this person but I don't turn to see who it is.

And then the vision is gone and I am back in the garage. Cadence is looking at me, her eyebrows furrowed curiously. I look away quickly, unwilling to explain myself just yet. I try to forget the vision while Cadence sets up the keyboard on its stand, but there is an itching urge in my fingertips, to run them over the keys, to play a melody...

_Don't be ridiculous, you don't even know how! _I try to tell myself. But the urge doesn't go away.

Then Cadence and the others head inside for lunch and I am left alone with the keyboard. I sit across from it in my chair, staring it down, while it calls out to me. I glare at it, try to refuse the attraction it holds for me. But it doesn't go away; it only grows stronger.

Finally, following an urge I can't explain, I stand up and head to the keyboard. _I'll just play a note or two...just to prove I can't, _I tell myself. Pulling up a chair, I examine the multiple settings and switch it to "classic". I look it over for a moment, appraising the keys for a moment. With my fingers hovering over them, I bite my lip and think over what I'm going to play.

And then I begin. My fingers glide smoothly across the keys, and they almost stutter to a stop with my shock. _How do I know how to play the piano? _I think to myself, blindsided. But I shake my head, close my eyes, and forget my confusion for the moment.

"Starlight" is what I've chosen to play, and it flows smoothly from my head to my fingertips. I'm so lost inside the music that I don't realize I'm not alone until I've finished the song.

"Holy _shit!" _I hear Jimmy hiss from behind me. I jump and whip around, flushing from head to toe with embarrassment. The four of them are all standing behind me, staring at me in amazement.

Well...almost all of them. Eddie is watching me with the strangest look on his face- it is a startled, uncertain look, as though he's thought of something he either can't quite remember or can't quite believe. I meet his gaze for one moment, and we seem to share something for the first time ever, an almost _kinship _between us.

Then Cadence speaks up and the moment is lost, the connection broken. "I didn't know you could play the piano," she breathes, awed.

I blush furiously and look down at my feet. "Neither did I," I admit.

"Damn, man, you can _play," _Jimmy continues appreciatively.

I nod to him, not meeting any of their gazes. "Thank you," I mumble.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eddie and Cadence exchange a glance. Then Cadence turns to me. "Walter..." Her voice is slow with caution and I am instantly suspicious. I narrow my eyes but wait silently. "Well...okay, here's the deal. Those guys can all play the piano," she says, motioning toward Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien. "But they've all got other instruments that they play and they obviously can't play the keyboards at the same time. So...I was thinking-"

"No." My answer is blunt, forceful, and no-nonsense. I know what she's asking and I won't.

Her face falls. "Oh, c'mon, Walter, why not?"

"Because," I respond and glare at her. "I don't want to be in your _band," _I sneer.

"Oh, thanks," she snaps. "God, you are _such _a _prick-"_

"Rylie, Rylie, calm down," Damien interrupts, grabbing her arm. She whips around to face him, prepared to argue, I can tell. But he just meets her gaze steadily and shakes his head. She relaxes slightly but shoots me one last glare.

Sighing, I realize I should apologize. "I'm sorry, Cadence. But I can't be in your band," I tell her. She looks at me again and I give her an earnest look. "I'm sorry," I repeat and hope that she understands.

After a moment she sighs, too, and sags visibly. "Yeah, okay," she mutters. "Just an idea." Then she turns to the others. "C'mon, guys, let's get started."

I get out of the way then and return to my other chair to watch them. Eddie and Cadence discuss something in hushed voices and then Eddie whispers a quick something to both Jimmy and Damien, who nod.

And then they begin, Damien first, who is on the drums. Then Eddie on guitar and Jimmy on bass and finally Cadence, who starts singing. Eddie sings back-up throughout the song, and at the end Jimmy and Damien join in, but I only hear Cadence. Her voice is beautiful- edgy when she wants it to be, but beautiful all the same.

When they finish the song, she turns to me immediately for my reaction, her blue eyes nervous but hopeful. "Well? How was that?" she asks.

I decide to tease her a bit. "Hurm...I don't know, I'm no judge...How do _you _think it was?" I inquire innocently.

Her face falls and she groans in despair. "Oh, it was _horrible, _I _knew _it! Dammit, I knew this was a bad idea, I'm just so rusty right now, I haven't practiced-"

"Cadence!" I interrupt, unable to help laughing a little. "I'm _joking. _It was great. And your voice was..." I trail off, flushing suddenly with embarrassment. What do I say? "...Great, too," I finally finish.

If she notices the awkward pause, she's too excited about my feedback to really concentrate on it. "Really? You thought it was great? You're not lying just cuz you're my friend, right?" she adds, glaring at me sternly.

I shake my head. "Do you really think I would lie to you just to make you feel better?" I reply.

She pauses thoughtfully and then shakes her finger at me, nodding. "Good point," she says and then the excited glow returns to her eyes. "It was great, he thought it was great!" she murmurs, turning to Eddie, who smiles and nods.

"Told ya this was a good idea," he tells her smugly.

But Cadence draws back a little, frowning, as though struck by a thought. "No. No, it's not a good idea yet," she replies. "We were still pretty rusty. We need to practice more. _Then _we'll see if it's a good idea."

Eddie snorts, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, boss," he mutters and strums a quick chord on his guitar. "Do you want to keep the album or switch to a different one?" he asks her.

"I don't know...we should probably through a little variety in just to make sure we cover all our angles," she muses. Then she turns to me. "Are you still gonna listen?"

I shrug. "I suppose I could," I reply, though I do really want to hear her sing again.

She grins. "Thanks," she says, then turns away before I have a chance to say anything.

_**Jon **_

And so the savage beast discovers music.

And someday soon he will discover _why..._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I've finally posted a new chapter in "The Night's Journal" because I realize Rory has been pretty OOC lately (sorry! :P) And, yes, I know he's not supposed to know how to play piano. Trust me, it will fit in later. But I hope you enjoy it and the next chapter in this story that I hope to post sometime today... Anyway, much love, please review! :)


	33. Thirty Three

33. There Aren't Any Better Arrangements Than the One Where You're Right Across the Hall

The days grow hotter and hotter and our schedules busier and busier. The band practices at noon for about two or three hours, then we head straight for training. After that we take a break, an hour or two depending on how long we train. After that the band practices until it's time for Eddie, Walter and I to head out on patrol. Jimmy and Damien haven't had their Streetbeat yet but I'm sure it won't be long now till they do.

I'm pleased to say that Walter spends most of his time now at my house. While the band practices he usually watches, although sometimes he takes breaks from that to head out to the shop and train. He and my parents have become familiar with each other, which I appreciate since I think they were a bit leary because of his age and how rough he looks. It means they trust him enough to have him out here whenever he wants to be.

He chooses to come out on the weekends, too, even though our schedules are much less hectic then. We pretty much do whatever want on the weekends. If we want to practice some songs we do, but they aren't intense practice sessions. We train at around six and then head out to patrol, so that didn't really change much. But what I really love about the weekends is the down time I have with Walter. He's content to come with me on walks up the lane, read books up in my room, listen to music, or just roam the forests that border my house.

Being with Walter is, for the most part, very easy. Effortless. Because, even though he can sometimes be gruff and mean, or shy and awkward, he's also _my _Walter (although I would never tell him that for fear of losing a limb.)

Rorschach, however, is a different story entirely because he's almost impossible to get along with. To tell the truth, I'm not very fond of _him _and I can tell he doesn't really like me much, either. It hurts a little, but all the same I think I understand.

It's on the hottest day on record so far that something changes in our little world. The band and I are getting set up in the garage, the door open to let in the hope of a breeze though there is none. We all have to pause every few minutes to wipe the sweat from our faces.

I see Walter first because I'm looking for him. Usually _he's _the one waiting for _us _in the garage and today he's late. When he comes stumbling slowly up the driveway my heart stutters to a quick stop and panic fills my chest. "Walter!" I holler and sprint out to him.

He sinks to his knees when he sees me and I speed up to catch him before he collapses completely. He is flushed red and shining with sweat, his blue eyes glazing sightlessly yet still searching for my face. "Cadence...?" he rasps.

"I'm right here, Walter, it's okay," I reassure him, trying to keep the anxiety from my voice.

"He's fine, Rylie, he's just passing out," I hear Eddie murmur at my side. Though his voice is gentle, there is an edge of smug satisfaction that makes my skin prickle with irritation.

I don't say anything about it, though. "Can you help me carry him to the shop? It's probably cooler in there," I murmur, still propping his head up in my lap.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees quietly. He lifts Walter by his feet while I carry him by his arms. Jimmy and Damien walk beside us, ready to help if they need to.

Midway to the shop, Eddie wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Jesus, he _stinks," _he spits disgustedly.

I glare at him furiously. "Shut up, Eddie!" I snap. Eddie's eyes become withdrawn and flat, not quite glaring but not friendly, either. I feel a pang inside me but I don't concentrate on it. "Set him down here," I command quietly as we step into the shop, sweeping clean a small area of the smooth concrete floor. We lay him down and then I turn to Jimmy. "Can you go get a towel and soak it in cold water please?" I ask.

He nods. "Sure thing," he says and races off.

Ignoring the common sense that screams at me not to, I gently lay my hand on Walter's cheek and then his forehead, feeling the heat burn against my skin. "He's really hot," I murmur anxiously.

"Well, no wonder. The idiot's wearing pants and a jacket in this heat," Eddie replies critically.

I whip my head up, ready to spit out a quick retort, but before I can say anything, Walter moves under me and I glance down at him. He blinks up at me, looking confused. "Cadence?" he croaks and then clears his throat impatiently.

I quickly draw my hand from his face and give him a little smile. "Hey, Walter. Welcome to the land of the living," I greet him, raising my eyebrows in a soft, teasing way.

He furrows his brows and blushes. "Hurm. I...fainted?" he asks quietly.

I nod sympathetically. "Yeah," I admit reluctantly. I can tell he's embarrassed but there's really no avoiding it.

He blushes even more furiously and avoids my gaze. "Sorry," he mumbles, then tries to push himself to his feet.

I press my hand to his chest to stop him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, cool your jets there, Eager McBeaver. You still need to cool down," I tell him.

He glares at me. "I'm fine now, Cadence. Let me get up," he growls.

I glare back at him. "No."

"Cadence, I'm _fine." _

"_No, _you're _not." _

"Let me up."

"No."

We glare at each other for a long moment, and then Walter finally sighs heavily. I grin, sensing a victory. He grimaces at my triumphant expression. "Only this once, Cadence," he grumbles.

"Oh, just suck it up, Walter, and admit that sometimes _I'm _right," I reply smugly.

"Cadence?"

"Yes?"

"Be quiet."

Jimmy comes back then with a dripping wet towel. He hands it to me and then smiles at Walter. "So you're conscious now, huh?" he teases.

Walter rolls his eyes. "Still haven't learned when to keep your mouth shut yet, Featherweight?"

"I never keep my mouth shut if I can help it," Jimmy replies, his green eyes twinkling playfully.

"Mm, that's a great way to catch flies."

"Yummy."

I chuckle, watching their exchange. Why couldn't Eddie get along with Walter the way Jimmy or Damien could? Shaking my head, I reach for Walter's jacket and begin to pull it off.

Quickly, Walter jerks away from me, looking at me in shock. "What are you doing?" he demands.

"Cooling you off," I reply, blinking at him in surprise. He narrows his eyes and I can tell he's going to argue, so I just sigh and cut him off before he can. "Walter, look, you are really hot right now and you need to cool down. This heat is dangerous, okay, and I don't think you understand that. Do you know that you could suffer from a heat stroke in this weather?"

Walter hesitates and then relaxes slightly. "Fine," he mutters.

I nod, smiling slightly, and then pull off his jacket. "What were you doing anyway?" I ask without looking at him, pressing the towel to the back of his neck.

He jumps a little at the sudden coldness. "Running," he responds. "I always run here."

I raise an eyebrow. "And it didn't occur to you to dress cooler?" I inquire.

"Didn't think it would get this hot so early," he explains with a shrug. "I've never been somewhere this hot. Not even New York." He looks at me, as though waiting for an explanation.

I nod, smiling. "Yeah, it's crazy here. We get extremes. Freezing in the winter, blazing in the summer. And it's not the heat really. The heat alone is usually easier to deal with. It's the humidity. It makes it hard to breathe."

"Like a fuckin' sauna," Eddie adds from where he sits on the lawnmower.

Walter nods and then watches as I rub the insides of his arms down with the towel. "Why there?" he inquires curiously.

"It cools you down faster, like how cooling off your neck takes the edge off the heat," I reply.

"Hurm. Smart girl," he praises.

I blush and shake my head. "Nah, not really."

"Where'd you learn that?"

"Well, I've lived here for a long time. It's just something I figured out."

"It usually works better, though, when there's a breeze," Damien adds.

"Yeah, today's just cruel. No wind but plenty of heat and humidity," I agree. Then I glance at Walter cautiously. "Um...could you roll up your pant legs for me?"

He cocks his head. "Sure...?" He reaches down and rolls them up above his knees.

"Perfect," I tell him and then press the towel gently to crease behind his knee. He twitches in surprise and then relaxes a little after the initial shock. I can still feel the tension in his muscles but I ignore it until I'm finished. Sitting up, I smile at him. "There. All done."

He dips his head to me. "Thank you," he murmurs and then gets to his feet. "I feel much better."

"No problem," I reply and then glare at him sternly. "From now on, no more pants in the summer."

"That's right! Dress for success!" Jimmy quips.

Walter chuckles. "Alright. I promise."

And that's when I hear my dad's car pull into the driveway. Eddie and I look at each other in surprise. "He's back late," he says to me as we all head outside to greet him.

"Yeah, I didn't even notice his car wasn't here," I admit guiltily.

At first I pause in alarm. There is something in my dad's eyes- some kind of darkness or despair- that I haven't seen there before. For an instant, I wonder if he's been fired or something. But then he smiles at us as he gets out of his car, but I can tell he's exhausted. _Maybe it's just cuz he's tired, _I think, but I'm not totally convinced. "Hey, guys," he says. "How's it going?"

"Good," Jimmy responds brightly.

"Morning, Rick," Damien adds.

My dad nods to them and then blinks at Walter in surprise. "Walter. I didn't expect you to be here so early. What are you doing here?" he asks and then backtracks quickly at my expression. "Not that I mind, it's just..." He trails off uncomfortably and I can't help glaring at him.

"He's _homeless, _Dad," I mutter through clenched teeth.

My dad's expression changes to one of realization. "You haven't found a place to live yet, have you?" he says.

Walter ducks his head. "No," he mumbles quietly, clearly embarrassed.

I continue to glower furiously at my dad. How could he bring that up? I mean, it wasn't as though Walter particularly cared but it was obvious he felt he ought to have a house or a job just to be around my parents, as though he had to prove something to them. My parents don't care either way. I mean, they _do _but only because I think they've grown to care about _him. _I know my mom's tried several times to encourage Walter to get a job; he'll say he'll try just to appease her, but I know he never actually does.

My dad nods thoughtfully and then shrugs. "Well, my wife and I have actually been thinking about that. I know the economy's bad right now, people living right out of their pockets and suitcases. So I understand that you don't have a job or the money to pay for somewhere to live. But it's unacceptable for me to see you everyday and not try to help you," he says.

Walter and I exchange a quick, confused glance. Before either of us can say anything, my dad continues. "Now, I don't want to offend you or anything, but my wife and I have been talking and we're prepared to let you live here. Just until you find a place to live, of course," he adds quickly. "Now, there would be a few stipulations, one of which would be that we won't charge you rent but we will put you to work on the farm as compensation."

My mouth pops open in shock. I glance quickly at Walter to see his reaction. He's stunned. His blue eyes are wide and disbelieving, his mouth open in a little "o" of surprise.

I watch while he struggles to respond. "Th-that's...very nice of you, Mr. Howard. But...I couldn't..."

"Walter!" I interrupt. He looks at me. "My dad just offered you a place to stay!"

His eyes become firm. "Cadence, I can't-"

"Walter, don't do this-"

"Rylie, if he doesn't want to stay that's his decision," my dad interrupts.

"But, Dad-" I stop, though, when my dad gives me that stern, "you're-about-to-take-it-a-step-too-far-missy" look that I recognize from when I was little.

"Well, Walter, if you ever change your mind our door is always open. Now, I've got to get some sleep. Had a long night last night and I'll bet anything tonight will be the same," he says, shaking his head. Then he gives a quick, one-armed hug, says good-bye to the others, and heads into the house.

Once he's inside I turn to Walter, glaring. "Why _the fuck_ did you say no?" I demand angrily.

"Language," he chides me quietly.

"Don't avoid the question, dammit!"

Walter gives me a look that's half-irritated and half-desperate. "Cadence, I couldn't do that, your parents have _you _to take care of. I can't add on to their troubles," he says.

"It wouldn't _be _any trouble, they _offered. _Besides, they'd have you work around the house to pay it off, it wouldn't be a big deal!"

"Well _I _think it _would,_" Walter argues, glaring at me.

"But it wouldn't!" I insist and then temper my voice to a more pleading tone. "C'mon, Walter, you already spend most of your time here anyway. Can't you just give it a try? If you don't like it, _then _you can leave but at least give it a shot."

Walter hesitates, looking uncertain. Damien nudges him with his elbow. "Yeah, man, you wouldn't even have to sleep here if it makes you uncomfortable. You'll be out patrolling anyway," he says. I flash him a grateful look and he just smiles in a gentle, knowing way that kind of confuses me. It's on Jimmy's face, too, though it's not as gentle- more excited, hopeful maybe?

We all wait in tense silence for Walter's answer. I stare at him without blinking, watching his face, watching the reactions that color it. Finally he mutters under his breath, rolls his eyes, and then grimaces. "Oh, _fine, _you little pest. I'll give it a week. Nothing more. But don't think this changes anything," he growls in an almost threatening way, jabbing his finger into my chest so hard I stumble backward a little. Beneath the aggression, though, I see fear in his eyes- Rorschach struggling to hide the humanity inside.

I know how much of a huge leap he's taking, and it shocks me to some degree that I've won so easily. It occurs to me that he's probably never lived with anyone for years (not counting the years he's been dead _obviously_). I feel a stab of sympathy and vow to make things less awkward for him somehow.

Then I grin at him, overjoyed and unable to help it. _But it does, _I can't help thinking. _It changes things._

_**Rorschach**_

That night, while Cadence and the others are finishing dinner, I head out to the shop. I need to clear my head; it's been spinning all day, ever since Cadence ran inside to catch her dad before he fell asleep, to tell him I'd changed my mind.

The beast inside of me doesn't like the decision. At all. I can feel a rage building in my chest, fighting to break free. I fight back, try to push it back. Eventually, though, I have no choice. It takes me over, colors my eyesight, washes over me in a red haze...

Am Rorschach now. Need to rid myself of poisonous heat creeping through lungs. Heavy bag hangs uselessly in front of me. Picture it as incapacitated rapist, as half-conscious mugger, and start swinging.

Blows rain heavy upon the bag. Flames lick deep under skin, pushing me forward, urging me. Don't stop until breathing is uneven, feel sharp pull of ragged breath up and down in lungs that burn like my arms. Eyes seek out the weak points, hit the targets full-force, and flush out the weakness in _me. _

I am purging myself of unnecessary emotion, the anticipatory fire that had burned, deep and low and smoldering, when Cadence had asked me to stay. Was a soft fire, yet still just as aggressive, still just as dangerous. Keep hitting...hitting...hitting...

"Walter!"

The sound of Cadence's voice jars me out of the beast in a sudden and almost painful way. The fire recedes, burning me as it goes, and it leaves me unsatisfied. The beast rumbles restlessly in my belly, growling in pain and need and fury.

And then, slowly, I become aware of a different pain. Looking down at my hands, still balled into fists, I blink in mild surprise at the blood on my knuckles. I've beaten them raw without realizing it.

After a moment, I glance up at Cadence. Her blue eyes are concerned, worried. "Are you okay?" she asks and her voice is shocked.

It takes me a moment to answer her. I'm choking up; the flames are eating up my throat, threatening to burst through again...

I shake my head furiously to extinguish them. "Yes, Cadence, I'm fine. Just...training," I answer.

"But...your hands..." she says quietly.

"Yes, this is why I make you wear gloves when you train," I interrupt quickly. I try to hide my impatience but I'm not quite successful; Cadence draws back a little uncertainly, as though unsure of what to make of my mood. I feel a quick twinge of guilt but I can't do anything about it; I just can't have her knowing about my little...episode.

"Well...if you're sure you're okay..." she says uncertainly. "It's time for patrol."

I nod. "Right behind you." I watch her leave first, give the heavy bag one last glance, and then head inside to clean my hands before patrol.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, so, pretty important chapter, hope I didn't botch it too bad :P Please tune in for the next installment, hope to have it out soon. Please review :)


	34. Thirty Four

NOTE: First off, just want to thank all my readers/reviewers; you all are AWESOME! Second, you will need the song "Shooting the Moon" by Ok Go for the part where Rylie's describing their schedules together- I don't know why, I just think it fits somehow in my mind. Also "99 Problems" by Hugo (best version of the song), and you'll know where that is, and finally "Hello" by Martin Solveig and Dragonette for the "fight" scene between Rory and Rylie; trust me, it's PERFECT. :)

34. Whether or Not You Like It

So Walter's moved into our house. He didn't bring anything except his outfit for patrol and his grappling-hook gun. He moved into the room across from mine, the only available room. I tried to hide my excitement while he was "unpacking".

My parents keep their promise. They put him to work out in the garden, and fixing up things around the house that they don't have time to. I offer to help but he refuses. I think he likes the work, something to keep him occupied, and a way to repay my parents for what they're doing for him.

The one thing he will let me help with, though, is taking care of our pets. Though he tolerates them, I get the feeling he's pretty uncomfortable around them, too. So, in the afternoons we work together- emptying the litter boxes, feeding the animals, tossing each other tools to clean up after them and such- in between training and patrolling.

At night we patrol like usual. Jimmy (The Wild Card, which he is very proud of) and Damien (Ironhide, after the Transformer) have finally joined us, and they seem to make a wonderful addition to our team. Most nights lately have been crazy, all over the place, with things to do every second of patrol with no down time. I guess crimes have gone up lately. But it would have been infinitely more exhausting without Jimmy and Damien.

When we're not working, usually Walter and I are either reading, listening to music, or exploring the woods. Recently we'd found a small grove out past the runway (back in the day the runway had been used to land small biplanes; my grandpa and even my dad knew how to fly them, but we don't own any planes anymore). It's just a little circle in the middle of three patches of pine trees. It's hidden and secure, but it still lets in the light right in the center, warming it. Ever since we'd found the grove, we'd kept venturing back to it and reading or listening to music there.

We're approaching the last remaining days in Walter's "trial week" living at my house and he, Eddie, and I are sitting out in the garage, listening to music and waiting for Jimmy and Damien to arrive.

"Hey, babe, I got a little blast from the past for ya," Eddie says, plugging his ipod into my ihome and pressing play.

I grin at him when "99 Problems" by Hugo starts playing. "I _love _this song," I enthuse and we both start jamming to it. "It reminds me of when you convinced me to sneak into the theatres and we got thrown out," I continue and give him a meaningful glare.

He laughs and continues to bop his head to the music. "Just listen to the music, babe," he says to me.

"This song is vulgar," Walter comments disgustedly.

Eddie snorts. "You should hear 'Pony'," he mutters, then rolls his eyes at me.

I smile at him but peer past him to look at Walter. "C'mon. Let's go out and train for a little while, grumpy-pants," I say and get to my feet. I hear Eddie sigh heavily in irritation but I ignore him.

"You know, you really need to stop being a such a prude. In this day and age, vulgarity is the foundation of our society," I announce as we head to the shop, trying to sound smart.

Walter snorts. "_Sin_ should not be the foundation of anything," he mutters.

I shrug. "Hey, I never said it was a _good _foundation. Just that it _was,_" I reply. "Now. Which heavy bag do you want?"

So we start out on the heavy bags, and after about fifteen minutes my arms are burning and I have to stop. When I do, however, I notice that Walter is still on the heavy bag. And by "on the heavy bag", I mean he's _going to town _on it. He pauses for a moment after he notices I'm watching and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," I reply but it's clear by my voice that I'm jealous. He just smirks and starts up again on the bag.

Grimacing, I ignore the ache in my arms and start up again, too. He glances over and I throw him a challenging look. He smirks again and the challenge glows in his eyes, too; his pace increases and I struggle to catch up to it.

I'm able to keep it up for a few minutes, but my already-burning muscles start to sieze up a little. When they do, I'm forced to quit but Walter keeps going. The competitive edge inside me burns like my arms and I glare at him. He gives me this smug little smile and that's what does it. With a feral little snarl, I rush at him and swing my leg up toward him. He dodges out of the way and I stand there, staring at him daringly.

He narrows his eyes but before he can make a move, I lash out at him. He ducks to avoid it. I punch at him again. He catches my wrist and deflects the blow. In that second, our eyes meet I can see both a question and an answer in his- a question as to why I'm doing this and an answer to my obvious challenge. I just shake my head at him infinitesimally as if to say _I don't know, _and then lash out again.

We exchange some quick blows and then, before I know it, my already-weak arms get the better of me and _I'm _suddenly on the defensive. I should've known it would happen; Walter's still obviously so much stronger and more experienced than me. But I'd foolishly thought that maybe I could challenge him.

He starts to force me back, overwhelming me with his strength and speed; suddenly I don't have time to attack, just to dodge. My heart pounds in my chest with exertion as I pant and struggle to keep up once more.

Then finally I'm able to get a blow in- my fist, right against his cheek. His head snaps to the side and he stumbles back with the force of the impact. I stop and my jaw drops in startled surprise. "Oh, _shit," _I hiss and then reach out to him tentatively. "Are you okay?" I'm half-laughing with shock, but I can feel the guilt-filled, sympathetic expression on my face as I reach for him.

He looks up at me sharply, holding a hand to his cheekbone. His blue eyes are glittering dangerously, but in an almost wild, excited way. I take a step back, retracting my hands. "I-I'm sorry, I totally didn't mean to do that, I'm so sorry," I tell him. He doesn't respond but instead takes a deliberate step in my direction, lowering his hand and balling both of them into fists. "Uh...Walter? Walter, please..." I'm aware that I'm begging now, in a wary, nervous way, but I don't care.

He continues to stalk toward me slowly and for every step he takes in my direction, I take a step back. The large sliding door on the front of the shop is open to let in the rare breeze, which is good because by now, I would have backed into it. Stepping out into the daylight, I realize that eventually I'm either going to have to stand and fight, or turn and run.

Of course, I choose the latter.

I flip around and start running, skidding on the grass under my bare feet as I curve tightly around my trampoline. Walter breaks into a run, too, in pursuit so close I can hear his breathing right, even and focused, a few behind me.

Sensing him gaining, I faint to the left as though I'm about to follow the circle of the trampoline, and instead swerve to the right at the last second, barely dodging around Walter as he barrels past me. I race around a tree and am about to head back to the shop, but he steps into my path and heads toward me.

Putting on the breaks, I skid to a hault, twisting on my heel and heading back the way I've come. "Walter!" I holler over my shoulder as I run. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to punch your pretty face!"

"Better not talk, Cadence," he shouts back at me. "You know what happens when you talk and run."

_Side cramps, _I think in distaste. Whenever I don't breathe properly while I'm running I always, without fail, get a stitch in my side.

Which isn't good when you're trying to escape a wall of pure muscle that's barreling toward you.

Pretty soon, he's gaining again. Tapping into my vigi instincts I take a sharp turn as I'm passing the trampoline, ducking down and skidding on one side underneath it. I come out on the other side and leap to my feet, but Walter is already almost there, crouching down as he runs into a position I recognize as the one he gets into right before he tackles someone.

_Oh, shit! _I think and race away. But I can't get away fast enough. His hands graze my shoulder, reaching, and so, with a ferocious leap, I fly, feet-first, against a tree and bounce off. I flip in midair and miraculously manage to land on my feet, then, stumbling, I lunge onto the trampoline.

But Walter leaps with me, wrapping his arms around me as we go flying onto the surface. We skid across the top and almost go tumbling off, but I reach out and grab one of the coils on the side before we do. Wrestling against him, I'm able to wriggle free and crawl back into the middle of the trampoline. Quickly I scramble to my feet and turn to face him.

He leaps and I decide then to meet him halfway since if I don't, we'll both go flying off the side and land painfully on the ground. Though my arms are tired, I force them to work overtime as we fight so close its not even really exchanging blows as much as it is wrestling. Sometimes we break apart, but the space we're fighting on is small and it doesn't take us long to tangle together again. He throws me down, I jump back up, our movements emphasized and jarring because of the elasticity beneath us.

Suddenly, Eddie's voice interrupts us. "Hey, you two. Could you stop playing around? Jimmy and Damien are here," he drawls, humorless and sarcastic. The other two come up from behind him, grinning at us specutively.

Walter and I step away from each other, panting, and I grin at him. After a moment's hesitation, he smiles slightly back and then paces to one side of the trampoline. I face the other direction, turning back to Eddie and the others and smiling at them, hands on my knees as I bend over to catch my breath.

"You two are something else," Damien says, shaking his head.

"They like to get physical together," Jimmy murmurs in Damien's ear, elbowing him and grinning deviously.

I glare at him, and I'm about to yell something rather profound, but I'm backing up without realizing it. And even when my back and shoulders barely graze whatever's behind me, my eyes flash open wide and my instincts kick in. I automatically assume it's Walter, taking advantage of the fact that my back is turned. Using all of the force in my legs, I leap upward and flip in midair, twirling twice before landing a bit ungracefully on the ground.

Looking back, startled, I see Walter, looking back at me from the other side of the trampoline, his eyes mirroring mine. Before I can speak, Jimmy cuts in. "Holy _crap, _you guys, that was _badass!" _he shouts, his sea-green eyes glowing with enthusiasm. Damien and Eddie exchange similar expressions of shock and I blink.

"What exactly just happened?" I ask, glancing back at Walter to see that he's coming around to join us.

"You guys just, like, flipped at the same time. It was ah-_mazing!_" Jimmy explains.

I draw back and my eyes grow wide with surprise. I realize now what must have happened. We must have backed into each other without realizing and assumed the other was attacking again. So we'd done what our instincts had told us to do.

"You two need to do that again," Jimmy orders, glaring at us in a way that threatens violence if we don't comply.

"I'm not sure we _could _do it again..." I reply doubtfully, biting my lip.

"Sure you could, with enough practice," he argues.

"It'd be a pretty cool trick to have on tap," Eddie suggests.

Walter and I exchange a glance. There isn't derision or disapproval in his eyes so I shrug, turning back to the boys. "Sure, I guess we could," I agree.

"What were you two doing anyway?" Damien asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Cadence was just trying to prove a point," Walter replies and then, without looking at me, he punches my shoulder.

"_Ow!" _I gasp in pain, rubbing my arm and glaring at him. "What was _that _for?" And then, without waiting for a response, I punch him back. He looks at me sharply and I grin at him. "Now _I _punch hard, too."

_**Rorschach**_

We're almost ready to head out on patrol that night. The sun has almost set and the sky is a murky steel-blue. The lowest part of the western horizon is still tinged a deep, dusky red from the now-absent sun.

I'm sitting in the garage, watching Cadence and her friends laughing and joking with each other as they clean up the garage for the night. I can't help smiling slightly listening to them. Deep inside of me, the beast lies just beneath the surface but for now it's content.

For the most part, I truly enjoy being around them. Even Eddie has his moments. Though I'm still never completely at ease among so many, they're the ones I feel most comfortable with besides Daniel. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's their youth, their innocence and naivety; though they call themselves vigilantes, they have not seen what I've seen and- for now- they are uncorrupted.

I remember, as I watch them, something that Manhattan once wrote in one of his letters: _"Be prepared not only to teach but to be taught." _And I realize in that moment that I haven't just been teaching them.

They've been teaching me.

_**Eddie**_

The band has just finished putting away the drums and guitars and we're ready to leave on patrol. But I have one thing left to do, and Rylie must leave before I can do it.

"Hey, Rylie-bean, you guys start out without me, I'm gonna eat a little something before I leave," I tell her.

She raises an eyebrow. "Didn't I feed you enough for dinner?"

I shake my head. "I'm disappointed, Rylie. You should know by now that I have _four _stomachs, not just two," I say in mock disappointment.

"But...humans only have _one _stomach..." she says slowly.

"Exactly." I grin at her.

She smiles and shakes her head. "Okay, go eat you four-stomached freak of nature who appears to only have half a brain," she tells me, ruffles my hair, and heads out of the garage with Jimmy and Damien. They'll change into their vigi costumes in the woods; we've all taken to hiding them there since we can't risk Rylie's parents discovering them.

When I'm sure she's out of earshot, I turn quickly to face Walter, who's gotten up to follow them. "Wait, before you go, I need to talk to you," I tell him quickly.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What about?" he asks.

I hesitate for a moment. It will taste like bile coming out of my mouth, but I have to do it. Rylie wouldn't be happy if I didn't invite him, too. Deep inside me, I feel a little blossom of hope blooming in my chest, and it's very beautiful but I'm not sure if it's poisonous yet or not. I want so desperately to make Rylie happy, to get us back to the way we used to be. I hope that this little surprise can do that for us. I hope she loves it.

But she won't love it without Walter, which burns like hell to admit.

So I look directly into his eyes and say, "I have a proposition for you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have the next chapter up- quick! Go read it! :D (And please review, too, they make me happy!)


	35. Thirty Five

NOTE: Okay, for _this _chapter, you will need "The Authority Song" by Jimmy Eat World, which is the song the band practices. And "Hurts Like Heaven" by Coldplay, which is the song Rory listens to on his run (by the way, Coldplay's new album is FANTASTIC, I highly recommend you get it!) Anyway! Please enjoy :)

35. I Don't Seem Obvious, Do I?

_**Rylie**_

"Okay, Eddie?...Eddie, could you, like, knock that the fuck off?" I demand, making my voice falsely pleasant and sugary while I shove him away. I am sitting at the computer, trying to read email before I go upstairs to get a bit of sleep. We've all just gotten off patrol and Eddie is strangely hyper, as though riding some kind of bizarre high.

He's just been attempting to trap me in a headlock and give me a noogie. He grins at me, his eyes gleaming with an almost wild excitement. "Baby, I'm too legit to quit," he quips.

I shake my head, amazed. "Eddie, you have entirely too much energy," I tell him. "Shouldn't you be tired right now?"

"Maybe it's _you _that _shouldn't _be tired," Eddie counters.

"Eddie, I just spent the last however many hours rounding up gang whores and drug dealers. I have all the fucking right to be tired," I reply and turn back to the computer. Eddie just laughs.

"Now I think I know where all of that cocaine disappeared to," Walter comments quietly behind us. Jimmy and Damien snicker in response.

Eddie whips around indignantly. "Hey! That motherfuckin' coke dealer did something with it!" he exclaims.

"So you say. But isn't it funny that it was only _you _who brought him in?" I'm surprised to hear a teasing note in Walter's voice.

"Oh, _you're _just jealous because _I-"_

"Okay, let's play a little game, huh?" I interrupt loudly before Eddie can finish. "How about you both shut the fuck up so you don't, a.) wake up my mom, or b.) give me a headache?" I suggest.

"That's no fun!" Eddie complains. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Read. Spar. Learn Spanish. Just be quiet for, like, two seconds," I reply, then turn back to the computer once more.

While I check email, I'm aware of the sounds of scuffling behind me. I roll my eyes; they must've taken up my sparring suggestion. _Figures, _I think. I'm just finishing up when I hear the sound of Eddie laughing, just before the sound of someone falling over the rocking chair in the corner and taking the lamp down with them makes me jump.

I whip around in my chair immediately. Walter is standing above Eddie, who has one leg draped over the arm of the rocking chair and one arm clutching the lamp, which is lying next to him on the floor like a casualty of war.

"I said to spar, not break my house!" I exclaim, trying not to laugh.

I stiffen in surprise when Walter extends a hand to help Eddie to his feet, and I almost fall out of my chair in shock when Eddie takes it. "Well, I think the two kinda go hand-in-hand," he replies, righting the lamp. He inspects it quickly and then turns back to me, grinning. "See. Not even a scratch."

I roll my eyes, pushing myself up from my chair. "Yes, well, you're lucky there isn't because my mother would murder you," I mutter. "I'm going to bed now."

"No, Rylie, wait!" Eddie stops me and I blink at him, confused. "Could we just play a song or two out in the garage or something? Please?"

"Aw, Eddie, _no. _I'm _tired. _I want to go to bed," I groan in a close-to-whining voice.

"Just one song," he insists.

I open my mouth to refuse again, but there is something in his eyes... That wild excitement is back, dancing like light dances on water. _He's up to something, _I realize, my suspicion roused.

"Fine," I finally growl. "But just one."

Eddie smiles and nods. "Great."

"I'll go for a run up the lane while you all play," Walter says quietly, smiling slightly. He glances at Eddie, whose eyes flicker to Walter, and they exchange a quick, meaningful glance. _He's in on it, too! _I realize, shocked and now terribly confused.

"Alright, we'll be here," Eddie replies and then turns to me. "C'mon, let's go!" he urges and then skips off in the direction of the garage.

I look at Jimmy and Damien. "Do either of _you _know what's up with him?" I ask.

"No, but we better follow him before he throws a hissy fit," Damien replies, wrapping an arm around Jimmy's shoulder and then wrapping an arm around me. We walk down the hall like that, and when we get to the garage we try to fit through the door like that...which doesn't work.

Eddie raises an eyebrow as the three of us tumble to the floor, laughing helplessly. "And you all seem to think that _I'm _the strange one," he mutters, shaking his head.

Once we're set up, Eddie turns to the rest of us and says, "'Authority Song'." I smile. We haven't played this in a long time.

He counts us in and then the others start to play. I wait until my cue and then start singing melody while Eddie harmonizes. He smiles at me over the microphone and I smile back.

_"It's how the hustle goes/See what the jukebox knows." _

As we sing, all of the tension that's been building up between us seems to melt away. My smile grows wider and a familiar warm feeling fills my chest.

_"Put my last quarter on/I play a 'Authority Song'." _

Eddie looks at me again, strumming out the notes, his fingers switching from chord to chord on the fretboard. His brown eyes seek mine and there is a glow in them, a familiarity, that instantly puts butterflies in my stomach.

_"Honesty or mystery?/Tell me I'm not scared anymore." _

The butterflies flutter even faster, and suddenly the blush is coloring my cheeks. I can feel it heating up my face, a very clear and visible sign of my emotions. I try to turn away, but Eddie is still looking at me, holding me fast with his gaze.

_"I got no secret purpose/I don't seem obvious, do I?" _

Finally, _finally, _I'm able to tear my eyes away from his. I stare down at my mic for the rest of the song, concentrating on it and it alone, while I try to calm my fast-beating heart.

_"I don't seem obvious, do I?" _

_**Rorschach**_

Switching Cadence's ipod from "locked" to "unlocked", I put it on shuffle and start running. What comes on is a song I don't immediately recognize. _It must be a new one, _I realize, because I've listened to her ipod with her so often now that I know most of the songs on it.

It's a beautiful morning, not too hot yet and perfect for running. The song is perfect for running, too, I quickly realize. It's not edgy but it's got a nice, fast beat. It's a happy-sounding song, and it reminds me of Cadence.

Up above me, the sky is turning into milky, pastel colors; the morning has the feel of a fresh, newborn flower blooming. Breathing in evenly through my nose, I can't help smiling a little as I push myself even faster.

Hopefully by the time I get back, Eddie's stepbrother will have called with good news, and then Eddie and I will reveal our little surprise to Cadence. The smile grows and I change my evenly-paced run into an all-out sprint, suddenly eager to get home.

_**Rylie**_

Eddie gets the call a few minutes after we finish the song. His eyes glow with excitement as he pulls his phone from his pocket and answers in a swift, breathless voice. "Hello?" he says and then breaks into a huge grin. "You did? Yes! Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll call you later to make sure we've got all the arrangements...Yeah. Alright. Thank you _so _much! Bye."

When he hangs up, he turns to me immediately, a huge grin plastered on his face, his cheeks flushed with color, his eyes gleaming. He just stares at me like that, not saying anything, and after a while I grow impatient. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I demand.

"Nothing," he says, but it's clearly not nothing.

I give him a look. "Really, Eddie, do you think I'm that stupid?"

"What are you being stupid about?" Walter asks, striding inside as he wipes the sweat from his brow. I turn to him, noting how the perspiration gleams lightly on his muscles.

"_I'm _not being stupid about anything. Eddie's being weird," I complain.

"Oh, yes?" Walter replies, but he looks at Eddie as he speaks, raising an eyebrow. Eddie nods just the slightest bit and Walter smiles, seeming to relax.

And I've had enough. "Okay, _what _is going on?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at the two of them.

Eddie looks at Walter and Walter motions to him. "Go ahead. It was your idea," he murmurs, a trace of regret in his voice.

"Alright, so. Cadence," Eddie begins, still grinning at me so hugely I'm surprised it doesn't split his face open. I raise an eyebrow but don't say anything as he continues. "I have got an early birthday present for you."

I blink, surprised. "What? Eddie, my birthday's not until November," I protest. I don't want to sound ungrateful, but what he could possibly get me that couldn't wait? Could it spoil or something?

"Yeah, I know, but...these are nonrefundable tickets, so..."

"Tickets?" I repeat. "For what?"

"Well...Remember a couple months ago, when we heard those commercials on the radio..." He trails off meaningfully.

It only takes me a split second to get what he's implying. My mouth pops open and my eyes grow wide. I want to believe it but I can't quite. "_Muse?" _I gasp, shocked.

He nods. "Malcom just got the tickets. GA. I got tickets for all of us," he says, looking around at the others. Jimmy and Damien have expressions of shock mirroring mine, but Walter isn't surprised at all. His smile is indulgent and happy in a relaxed sort of way.

"Even for Walter?" I ask.

Walter chuckles, nodding. "Even for Walter," he says.

"Oh my _God, _this is so amazing!" I squeal; he opens his arms at the exact moment I leap into them. He spins me around, hugging me tightly and laughing. "Thank you _so much, _Eddie, you are the _best!" _I continue, nuzzling into his neck.

He laughs and then, with his lips so close to my ear I can feel his warm breath coursing down my neck, he whispers, "I'm just glad you're happy."

I lean away from him, smiling, unexpectedly moved. "Thank you," I repeat, but in a quieter voice.

He presses his forehead to mine. "Anytime," he murmurs in reply, in a voice so quiet I'm not sure anyone else could hear him.

And then Jimmy and Damien converge on him, breaking through our private little bubble. I step away, smiling, as they overwhelm him with loud, boisterous "thank you"s and "you're fucking awesome"s and head slowly over to Walter. He smiles at me softly and I smile back.

It's in that moment that I'm overcome with a strong, unbelieveable sense of need, followed by a wave of courage. Before I can remind myself of my common sense, I gently wrap my arms around Walter's neck and hug him. "Thank you," I murmur in his ear.

He grows rigid immediately, and I sense the shift in him. He trembles and then pushes me away. He isn't rough, but he's firm. "It wasn't my gift," he says quietly. When he looks at me, his blue eyes are guarded, almost fearful. I can feel the barely supressed emotion- whatever it is he's struggling with- simmering under the surface.

I step away to give him a respectful distance. I shrug. "Thank you all the same," I tell him, and I hope he hears all that I'm trying to thank him for.

_**Rorschach**_

As soon as Cadence is gone- off to call Eddie's brother to thank him- I march off toward the shop. I barely remember to grab the gloves on my way in; I don't need her seeing anymore scars on my hands.

Shift in midstride into Rorschach. Easy. Effortless. Feels like a homecoming. Stepping up to heavy bag, immediately start in on it. Anger is blinding, directionless. It hurts, tugging in every direction. It has no outlet, so I must give it one.

Like swift bullets descending on victim, fists pump tirelessly against the leather. Arms burn but nowhere near as hot as pain, the hatred that seeps up and fills every pore, hatred that has sat, festering, since its inception.

Somewhere deep inside, Walter insists Cadence is not at fault.

Rorschach disagrees.

Her touch, her smile, her eyes. Everything. Everything about her burns like open flames. Pain unbearable, unbelievable.

Pain Walter insists on nurturing.

Won't allow it. Can't. Fight harder against it, moving my fists faster, blood pumping under skin to rhythm of smoldering heart.

And then...

And then something happens, something happens that fuels rage while at the same time wrestles with it.

Walter fights back.

Flames inside me rise higher. Arms move faster. Sweat pours down my face (mask) while beneath my skin, two entities wrestle for dominion. Breathing fast, I force my lungs to work overtime while I try to purge myself of this disaster. It feels as though I'm starting to come undone, as though everything that has gone into me and changed me and _become me _over the past few months is unraveling, and I fight desperately against it. Sweat drips into my eyes, trickles down my face (!mask!) in little rivulets, but I don't even pause to wipe it away. I need all of my concentration to fight this off.

But it begins to overpower me and I search for something, anything, to hold onto.

So I think of Cadence. I think of when we first met, her apologies spilling into the icy air while her blue eyes fluttered up at me, filled with mystery. I remember following her to Hastings through the snow, reading her notes, realizing that she was the one Manhattan had spoken of. Realizing we had needed each other.

I remember when she discovered who I was, when she asked me to teach her how to fight, when she introduced me to her friends and told me they wanted to become vigilantes. I think about her Streetbeat, her initiation, and her excitement.

I remember all of this and the fire starts to lessen. My fists slow. The beast sinks down, nowhere near satiated but defeated nonetheless.

For now, at least.

_**Maury**_

It's two A.M. and there's blood everywhere.

I was just going upstairs to get Troy and see if he wanted to come vandalize shit with us tonight. I was expecting him to be in bed making out with some random chick he'd met at a bar. I was _expecting _it. That's just how Troy was.

No girl, but plenty of gore.

Now the others are up here with me, investigating. We don't dare call the cops. We have to do everything ourselves.

"This looks like a pretty clean job," Vinny finally announces wearily. We all look at him when he speaks. He's the boss, and though we all respect him (and, let's face it, we're a little afraid of him), he's also something of a father to us and we love him.

"No broken glass, no sign of forced entry. Whoever did 'im in was a fuckin' ghost," he continues and looks at us meaningfully. Darkly.

We all start muttering and casting dark glances around the room at each other, all of us thinking the same thing. I hear the word "suits" passed around in hushed whispers that barely conceal our rage.

I feel tears prick my eyes but I fight them back. This is the third death in two weeks. Not a coincidence, though we never really thought it was.

"They're out to get us," Dina whispers at my side. I turn to look at her and there is fear in her eyes.

I wrap my arms around her tightly, fiercely, and she trembles against me. "We'll be alright," I promise her. But I'm not really sure we will be.

_**Rylie**_

"Walter?"

"Hm?"

I look over at him, breaking the perfect stillness that has settled over us. We are in the grove, laying on our backs and soaking in the sunshine. We've decided to take the day off since we need to pack for tomorrow. I feel a thrill of excitement for probably the hundredth time at the thought. The concert is tomorrow.

"You should write a song," I say.

Walter lifts his arm from where he's draped it over his eyes to block out the blinding glare. He sits up and looks at me, blindsided. "What?"

"You know. On the piano," I explain, looking down at the ground and drawing little circles in the grass. Suddenly I'm self-conscious. I don't know why I'm suggesting it. The idea's just been plaguing me for a while now and I felt I had to get it off my chest.

"I...don't know how to write music..." he hedges.

"Well, can't you just, you know, hear something in your head and play it?" I inquire.

"Yes, I suppose I could..." He trails off, seeming both thoughtful and hesitant. _Nervous, _I realize, and I regret putting him on the spot. We fall silent and I look off toward the side, suddenly wishing Walter were completely comfortable with me the way I was with him.

"Cadence?"

When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, and very shy; I look over at him, startled by the way it shakes. He looks back at me and then glances away quickly, self-consciously. And all of a sudden, my heart starts to pound a little faster in my chest in anticipation. I watch him, waiting, holding my breath. I don't know exactly what I'm waiting for, but I want him- I _need _him- to speak.

"Yes?" I reply breathlessly.

Walter hesitates, staring up at the sky. "So it's been a week..." he begins slowly.

"Yeah..." I prompt him as he slows and trails off. My heart continues to flutter incessantly in my chest.

"And, I've been thinking...considering your offer..."

_Oh, _I realize belatedly. _He's talking about living with us. _For a moment, the fluttering in my chest ceases and a fierce, deflating disappointment washes through me. But a moment later, my heart starts thumping again, both nervous and excited.

Then he looks at me, and he smiles weakly. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stay with you for a little while longer," he finally murmurs quietly.

I gasp, my mouth gaping. "Oh my God, are you serious?" I hiss, unable to help myself.

Walter rolls his eyes impatiently. "Yes, Cadence, I don't speak just for the pleasure of hearing my own voice," he snaps. I can hear the fear hidden beneath the anger, and I feel a pang of sympathy. I wish I could tell him he doesn't have to cover up his emotions in front of me, but I know that will just make things worse for him.

"Thank you," I say quietly. He looks at me and I smile.

He shakes his head, looking amazed. "I didn't do anything," he mutters, blinking at me.

But I just smile even more. "Yes, you did," I tell him simply.

_**Adrian**_

"Mr. Veidt. It's time."

I look up at Janet in surprise. The comment has come from nowhere, with absolutely no preamble or indication. She stands in front of my desk, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes hard.

"Janet," I begin, trying to hide my surprise. "It's nowhere near ready..."

Her eyes narrow. "It doesn't matter, Adrian. We are running out of time," she growls.

There is fear in her eyes.

"Janet, I understand that things have gotten a bit, urm, _hairy, _lately. But it's nothing we can't handle, surely," I try to reassure her.

"Have you been taking your pills?" she demands suddenly.

I draw back in surprise and then I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "Yes, Janet," I reply sharply. "Is there a problem?"

I stare at her challengingly and she stares back. "No," she answers after a moment. "I'm just making sure you're doing your job."

I glare at her, feeling a dark fury roil and churn within me like a storm. I'm on my feet in a second, feeling my fists clench and unclench. "Janet. I'm working as fast as I can. But something of this magnitude cannot be rushed and I don't think you understand that," I tell her, taking a step forward; my voice is low and dangerous, and this seems to register to her. She shrinks back from my staggering rage but keeps her eyes trained on mine.

"So if you have a complaint, I suggest you start working on this yourself since you seem to think you can do it better," I continue.

She holds her hands up to stop me. "Of course I'm not suggesting that, Adrian. You _are _the smartest man in the world," she says, and she smiles at me thinly. I hope I'm just imagining the mocking tone in her voice.

Then her eyes narrow; she keeps the smile on her face but she suddenly looks more like a demon than a human. "But of course you _also _understand that I have priorities, and we _all_ are on a tight schedule," she reminds me. I'm not unaware of the veiled threat beneath her words.

"Yes, Janet. God forbid we defy _your _schedule," I reply, then turn around and head back to my desk, dismissing her without words.

But as she walks out the door, she cocks her head to the side and says, "Fine. We'll give you more time. But we'll be running an experiment of her own."

And then she is gone before I can ask her what she means.

_**Daniel**_

It's a little after two in the morning when the phone rings. Laurie and I are finally sleeping. It's taken us a while to get back into our "normal person" schedule- the one where we actually sleep at night.

Groggily, I sit up in bed. Laurie stirs beside me but doesn't lift her head. "Don't answer it, Dan," she murmurs in a muffled, sleepy voice.

"Mm, but what if it's Eddie or Malcom?" I reply, my voice still thick with sleep but clearly full of concern as well. Rubbing my eyes, I fumble for the phone on the bedside table, still struggling to wake up completely. "Hello?"

"Is...is this Daniel?"

I pull back for a moment from the phone and look at it, as though it will give me the identity of this unfamiliar and, quite frankly, pitiful-sounding voice. "Um. Who is this?" I ask.

"Is this Daniel?" the voice repeats, sounding both impatient and urgent. It is a girl, a young woman, and there are tears in her voice.

I hesitate before I answer. To everyone else, I am Sam Hollis. No one knows my real name except a few trusted people. Quickly, I think through the list of people who know my true identity- Laurie, of course, Adrian (and my lip curls up into a snarl at the thought), Walter, Rylie... _Maury! _I realize. It clearly isn't him on the phone, but after he and his gang had helped us fight off the suits, I'd told him my true identity and that it was alright to tell it to the other truthers.

"Yes," I answer, suddenly more alert. Something is terribly, terribly wrong.

"Oh, please. Daniel," she pleads. "You have to help me."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: *le gasp!* A Rorschach hug scene! I know- blasphemy! I hope I showed, though, how much Rorschach hated it (even if Walter didn't exactly...) Anyway, hope you liked it. Please enjoy, and keep watch for the next chapter. :)


	36. Thirty Six

NOTE: Thank you so much to all of you amazing reviewers! :) Now. You will need "Friends" by Band of Skulls for the first part of the drive, "Monsters" by Hurricane Bells for the second part, "XO" by Fall Out Boy for Eddie's little bout of inappropriate-ness, and finally "Silver Tiles" by Matt & Kim for the chase/fight scene. Thank you!

36. Love Never Wanted Me (But I Took it Anyway)

_**Rylie**_

"C'mon, Rylie, we have to get on the road!" Eddie hollers up the stairs to me.

"O_kay, _I'm _coming!" _I shout back impatiently and then shake my head, muttering to myself while I heft my duffel bag onto my shoulder.

"Cadence." I turn to see Walter standing in the doorway, leaning against its frame and raising an eyebrow at me. "We're just going one state over," he points out.

"Well, yeah, I know, but I couldn't decide on what I wanted to wear. This a pretty special occasion, you know," I reply.

"It's a black tie event, huh?"

I huff impatiently, pushing past him- though it's more like a waddle since the bag is weighing me down on one side. "Could you quit it with the sarcasm please? I'm serious here."

Walter follows me down the stairs, his hands casually in his pockets as he watches me struggle. "I was always under the impression that you appreciated my sarcasm," he says.

I turn to throw him a look. "Since when have I _ever _said that?"

"You don't have to. I see the unquestioning admiration in your eyes all the time."

I roll my eyes, stepping outside where Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien are loading their things into the back of the Xterra. "Yeah. You're my hero," I drawl.

"You _have _said that once."

With an impatient sigh, I swing around to face him. "Look, you obviously haven't been to a Muse concert. It's a life-changing event," I tell him. I'm not completely joking, or being dramatic- after seeing them in concert the first time, I'd cried, not just because it was one of the most amazing experiences in my life but because it had been blindingly obvious after seeing their show that they knew. Muse- they _knew- _about the government, about the corruption, the conspiracies. It was difficult to deny when you listened to their lyrics, and impossible after going to a concert.

But Walter doesn't seem to take me seriously. "The last time I heard someone say that about a rock concert she came home pregnant," he says in that offhand, casual way he does, and then he picks up my bag and walks away to put it in the car. I stare after him, gaping, and then slowly follow.

Once we're on the road, Damien driving, I hand my ipod up to Eddie, who'd made a big deal out of calling shotgun before any of the rest of us. "Here, plug this in," I tell him.

"Sure thing, sugar pie," he responds easily and does as I say.

The first song that comes up is "Friends", and Walter glances at me in surprise. "What, no Muse?" he inquires.

"Later, once we get closer to Oklahoma City," I tell him.

"She's very ceremonial," Jimmy leans over to whisper to him.

He nods. "Is _she _the one whose been slaughtering cows behind the house the past few nights?" he inquires conspiratorially.

"Hey!" I glare at him.

Jimmy nods, ignoring me. "She also dances naked every full moon and bathes herself in blood," he adds.

"Okay, you guys suck, and I hope you know that." They just laugh.

_**Daniel**_

When step into the abandoned apartment building at dawn, everyone in the old lobby stands up and looks to me alertly, hopeful. I simply shake my head. I can't stand the way their faces fall, how they all slump, discouraged and depressed, back into their original positions. I haven't found Maury, and I haven't been able to find any hope of finding him, either.

Laurie, who has been sitting on one of the couches comforting Dina, stands and comes to me. She hugs me tightly, burying her head in my chest. "I can't stand this, Dan," she murmurs, echoing my thoughts. "I can't stand their faces."

"I know," I reply, rubbing her back comfortingly.

She looks up at me, and her expression is anguished. "I feel...I feel so _responsible," _she says.

I blink at her. "Why? It's not your fault."

"If the suits had never attacked us...if we'd just been able to take them...I mean, why did they even attack us anyway?" she frets, glaring with her tear-filled eyes at things only she can see.

I bite my lip guiltily. I wish that I could tell her that it had been _me, _that _I _had contacted Jon and _that's _why all of this was happening now, but...I can't. I know it's cowardly, but I just can't stand the thought of her looking at me with those blue eyes, her expression filled with shock and betrayal and accusation. Because it's _my _fault, and I know that.

"Honey, with everything the truthers have been doing, I'm sure it would have come to this eventually," I reassure her, but I'm also trying to reassure myself.

"I know, it's just...so hard. All I want to do protect them and I can't!" she fumes, her pretty eyes wide with dismay.

I smile at her softly, gently. "You can't protect everyone," I tell her quietly.

She glowers toward one of the windows, the shades drawn. "No, but I can try," she mutters stubbornly.

I sigh, rub her shoulder once more, and then head upstairs to one of the rooms that the gang has graciously lent us. Right now, I'm too tired to even consider going all the way back home to sleep.

It comes quickly, crashing over me as soon as my head hits the pillow. Just a few hours of peace. That's all I want.

_**Rylie**_

"_Jesus, _Eddie, you just fuckin' finished off my food _and _Walter's food," I exclaim, staring at him with wide, amazed eyes as he reaches for the remains of Jimmy's food.

Eddie looks back at me and holds his arms out. "What? I'm hungry," he says, though his words are muffled by the food in his mouth.

We've stopped along the way to fill up the tank and get some food from a Wendy's next to the gas station. After piling back into the car, we'd sat inside to eat. Eddie and Walter sat in the back with me, while Damien and Jimmy sat up front.

"Rylie, shouldn't you be used to him by now?" Jimmy asks.

"Yeah, Rylie," Eddie retorts, sticking his tongue out at me before stuffing the rest of Jimmy's chicken sandwich into his mouth.

"And I thought _Walter _had bad manners," I mutter. Walter looks at me sharply and I shrug.

"He _does," _Jimmy replies. Walter kicks the back of Jimmy's seat and Jimmy motions toward him. "See? That was bad manners."

When Damien pulls back onto the interstate, I turn to stare out the window at the scenery flying by. "Monsters" softly plays in the background, and I can't help smiling a little, thinking of my friends and where we're headed. _I'm so lucky, _I think, sighing contentedly and laying my head against the window. I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift...

When I open them again, I am standing in the dark next to someone. I don't know them, and yet in my heart I feel that I do. Like I'm remembering someone I haven't even met yet.

I don't turn to look at them. I stand with my hands behind my back, my eyes hard. "You know I have to leave," I say.

The man next to me nods. "I know."

"You will take care of them, won't you?" I know he will, but I need him to say it. I need him to promise.

"Of course I will. I love them, you know that." That's when he turns to me. I feel his eyes on my face but I don't look. "I love you, too."

I know this, too. And I love him...in a way. But it's not enough. There's not enough of me left to love him completely. I turn away from him, looking down at the ground. "I must go," I tell him quietly.

"I know..."

...And then Eddie is shaking me awake, murmuring softly in my ear. "Rylie, honey, we're there," he tells me.

"Oh, really?" I reply, groggy and still a bit bewildered, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. Outside, the sun is starting to set, casting the sky in bright oranges and pinks. We are in a small parking lot outside of the Motel 6 we're staying at, and I can hear Jimmy, Damien, and Walter lifting our bags out of the back.

"Thanks for waking me up," I murmur, taking his hand and letting him help me out of the Xterra.

"Yeah, no problem. You were getting kinda twitchy there at the end. Were you having a nightmare?" Eddie inquires, and his wonderful brown eyes are concerned.

I hesitate. _Had _it been a nightmare? It hadn't been scary really...but there had been an edge of sorrow, of unbearable depression and resignation, to it, so thick I'd been yearning subconsciously to wake from it.

"Yeah..." I finally say. "Yeah, it was a nightmare." But I realized then what it had _really _felt like.

A memory.

_**Malcom**_

"Hey, Malcom. You goin' out for lunch?" Terry leans into my office, raising an eyebrow invitingly.

I look up from my work, take off my reading glasses, and pinch my nose, shutting my eyes tightly; they burn when I do. I need sleep. "Uh, I don't know, Terr, I'm kinda busy right now..."

Terry makes a face. "Oh, come _on, _Mal. You've been workin' your _ass _off lately. You deserve a little break. C'mon, I'm buying," he adds temptingly.

I can't help but smile. Terry reminds me of Eddie. "Fine, you pain in the ass, let's go," I growl good-naturedly and follow him out to his car.

"So. How've things been going with you? We haven't really been able to talk lately," Terry says as we drive. He glances at me for a moment, and I try not to look back. I don't want to see the sympathy in eyes, I don't want to see his pity.

"Things are fine," I answer, staring straight ahead. "Eddie's taking some friends to Oklahoma to see Muse." Without thinking, I smile a little.

"Would one of these friends happen to be Miss Rylie?" Terry asks meaningfully, grinning.

I chuckle. "Of course. He never goes anywhere without her," I say. And then I frown. "But it seems she never goes anywhere without her new roommate."

Terry makes a surprised face. "Her roommate?" he repeats.

"Yeah. Apparently Rick and Carol took in a stray. His name Walter. And she never seems to leave his side according to Eddie," I explain.

Terry's eyebrows shoot up. "Uh oh. Bet Eddie doesn't like _that,_" he says.

"No, he doesn't," I agree. And neither do I. I've never met Walter, but I don't trust him. There's just something about the way Eddie speaks of him, and I know it's not just his jealousy seeping through. And his name...

"So, I've been meaning to ask you...has the DA given you your new case yet?" Terry asks, breaking through my thoughts. His voice is hesitant, and I'm immediately curious.

"No...Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"Well...it's just an interesting case. It's...it's a gang member who's arguing for protection from the First Amendment. He's up against some cop who apparently started beating on him for runnin' his mouth. His name is Rob, Rob Derringer. He claims that..." Terry trails off, seeing my disapproving expression. I try to fix my face into a neutral expression.

"Go on," I urge him.

"Well, he's a truther," Terry says reluctantly. My hands clench into fists at my side and my body grows rigid.

Narrowing my eyes, I demand, in a sharper voice that I mean to, "Why do you know more about this than I do if it's _my _case?"

"The DA was gonna give it to me, but I've already got that Jillian case...and since I'm just know finding out there might be extenuating circumstances..." He trails off, rolling his eyes. "Jesus, I don't know how defense attorneys sleep at night. This Jillian bastard is lying right through his teeth, and they're eating it up!"

I let Terry rant and rave a little bit. It'll give me a chance to arrange my features into careful neutrality. Right now I'm struggling to keep myself under control. I'm no defense attorney, but in a way I'll be representing this truther, this gang member- and my lip curls in distaste at the thought- while I prosecute a cop for him. For a moment, I wonder if there's anyway I can get out of it. I'm just not sure I can give my heart and soul into prosecuting someone who had every right to attack gang members, gang members who were dirtbags anyway. Gang members who raped and murdered and left their victims for dead...

"Mal? Hey, Mal, bro, snap out of it," Terry murmurs, concerned. I haven't realized until this moment that we're parked outside of the Mexican restaurant we used to eat at when we'd first become friends.

It takes me a moment to recover my voice. "Uh. Yeah, sorry, man. I just kinda...lost my train of thought," I murmur. I struggle to smile at him, but it feels weak even to me. He gives me a concerned, disbelieving look but I speak before he has a chance to.

"C'mon, Terr. Let's go get some tacos," I say quickly, patting him on the shoulder and faking a grin. He nods, smiling back, but I can tell he's not convinced by my act. I can't really blame him; I don't know how I managed not to explode before we I was even out of the car. But of one thing, I am absolutely sure- I can't quit this case. I won't let some truther dirtbag scare me away.

_**Eddie**_

"Okay, um, how are we gonna work this again?" I ask, glancing at first the left door and then the right.

"Well, Damien and I are definately sleeping in the same bed together, so someone else can stay in our room with us," Jimmy announces.

I raise an eyebrow. "If you two are sharing a bed I'm not sure anyone else would _want _to be in the same room," I say. Jimmy grins devilishly and Damien just laughs.

"Well, I can't share a bed with either of you," Rylie interrupts, looking pointedly at me and Walter. There is a blush coloring her cheeks and it makes my stomach twist into little knots. "So I guess I'll share the room with you two, if you don't mind," she continues, turning shyly to Jimmy and Damien. I can tell she's uncomfortable- she doesn't want to be a third wheel, or ruin their time together. I roll my eyes. So Rylie.

"Nah, we don't mind. We love you, doll," Jimmy replies lightly, throwing an arm around her. Then he leans down, his blue-green eyes twinkling playfully, and murmurs, "Though we're either going to kick you out at some point..._or _just include you in an orgy."

Rylie laughs. "I thought you gay guys couldn't even consider lady parts," she says, raising an eyebrow.

"Usually, but for you we'll make an exception."

They keep bantering back and forth, but I've just suddenly realized something. If Rylie is sharing a room with Jimmy and Damien, that means... Walter and I turn to look at each other with equal expressions of horror. I _can't _share a room with him, I _can't. _I can see in his eyes that he is thinking the exact same thing.

"Well, c'mon, kiddo. Let's get our stuff into our rooms," Damien says to Rylie, snapping me out of my horrific revelation.

"Yes, thank _God_, I _really _want to take a shower. I feel all cramped and gross after long car rides," Rylie replies, following them into their room.

Swallowing my disgust, I turn to our door without a word, swipe the key card through the slot, and step inside. Walter follows silently, setting his bag down beside mine in the small, open closet space just past the bathroom- one of those odd motel bathrooms that have the toilet and the shower on the inside, and the sink on the outside. On the other side of the front door is another door, the door connecting our room to Rylie's room. It's a suit, just like in Colorado. Rylie had seemed to like it last time, so I'd requested it.

Walter and I stand in the middle of the room, looking around in awkward silence- looking at the floor, the walls, the ceiling- but not at each other.

"Nice room," he finally comments quietly.

"Yeah," I agree. _Oh, God, please, if You love me at all, let him be sucked into an alternate dimension or something!_

"There's a fridge," Walter says in surprise.

I look over at it and nod. "Yeah, I made sure there was one. Which reminds me," I continue, feeling a fierce relief as I realize there is something I can do to get him out of her for a few minutes. "Can you go downstairs and get some ice? For drinks and stuff, you know."

"Sure," Walter agrees, seeming as eager to get away from me as I am to get away from him.

"Alright. Take this." I hand him the little white ice bucket sitting on top of the small counter.

"Be back," Walter mutters and walks out the door.

As soon as he does, I breathe a sigh of relief. It's so hard to be polite to him when all I really want to do is fight him. But I know Rylie will be unhappy with me if I do. Sitting down on the bed closest to the door, I quietly sing "XO" to myself.

And then I become aware of a sound from the other room. It's the sound of water moving through pipes, like steam escaping- Rylie taking her shower.

I hesitate, deliberating. I bite my lip and tell myself not to, but... I'm only human. Sneaking over to the door that connects our rooms, I crouch down till I'm eye level with the keyhole. I can only see the closed bathroom door across from me and the steam escaping from underneath. There's no other sound, not even from the TV, and I realize Jimmy and Damien must have left the room.

And then, after a couple minutes, the door opens. At first, all I can see is the steam rushing out like a huge sigh escaping.

Then _she _steps out, completely naked and wet from her shower. My heart flutters wildly, erratically, in my chest. My stomach twists tightly into a ball. My chest fills up with pleasure and love and the ache to touch her.

She is beautiful. She is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. She is slender, yet I can see the hard muscles roll under her soft skin when she moves. Gathering her dark, dripping hair into one hand, she starts brushing through the tangles, staring at herself in the mirror.

My hand steals down to my pants, where I've grown hard. I clutch at myself lightly, imagining that it's not _my _hand- it's _hers. _I keep my gaze focused on her the whole time, taking in every inch of her gorgeous form, imagining that I'm touching her porcelain skin, running my fingers through her hair, which isn't damp with water but damp with sweat. She opens her perfect mouth, lets out a small, vulnerable little moan, and I smile because _I've _made her moan that way. _I've _pleasured her, and she loves _me..._

The doorknob twists. I jump to my feet and take my hand from my pants, then start pacing as Walter walks in. I breathe through my nose, hoping to get my accelerated heartbeat under control before he notices.

But I'm pacing much too fast, in an almost prissy way as I try to calm my jangled, much-too-horny-for-my-own-good nerves. And, of course, Walter notices. He notices everything, damn him.

"Edward," he says slowly, watching me suspiciously; God, I _hate _it when he calls me that! He holds the ice bucket in one hand, closes the door with the other. I wonder with an inward sneer how many times _he's _jerked off to Rylie, and then suddenly I don't want to know at all. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," I say, in a voice that's much too high and breathless to actually substantiate my answer. I scowl in disgust.

"You sound like someone just kneed you in the groin," Walter comments, deadpan, without looking at me, setting the ice bucket on the counter.

I pause for a moment and then laugh, almost hysterically. _Well, it has _something _to do with that general area, _I think wryly. He looks at me, his eyebrows raised specutively. In the other room, I hear a door open and shut. I wonder idly if Jimmy and Damien came back, but as I can't hear voices at all I assume Rylie's gone back into the bathroom to get dressed.

I wince at the thought, still hard and burning with desire. I throw Walter a resentful look and then flop, defeated, onto my bed. A moment passes in silence, and then Walter sighs. "I ran into Jimmy and Damien in the lobby. They say they're taking Rylie out to dinner, and they wanted to know if we would join them," he murmurs.

I think about it for a minute. I always love to spend time with Rylie, and Lord knows I'd rather spend it with her than with Walter. But...if I see her now, I'll have no doubt that I'll remember her stepping out of the bathroom, shining and glorious in nudity, and the evidence will show through my pants. I can't have that, not ever. So I really have no choice.

"No, I'm just gonna stay here," I grumble.

"Alright," Walter says with a nod and sits down on the other bed.

We sit in awkward silence for what feels like centuries until eventually it's unbearable. I sit up sharply in bed and swing around to face him. "Look, do you want to come with me to the store to pick up food or something?" I demand, my voice coming out like an accusation.

Walter shrugs, seemingly not bothered by my tone. "Fine," he agrees and stands up. "Let's go."

I stifle a frustrated sigh and stalk past him, grabbing the key card as I do. It's dark now, with the only light coming from the streetlamps. I remember seeing the store- really no more than a glorified gas station- only a few blocks from our motel, and I lead Walter through some backalleys to get there faster.

We travel in silence through the dark alleys, lit only by the reflections of moonlight bouncing off of puddles on the concrete. By the time we get there, we still haven't said a word. I quickly pick out some provisions while Walter shadows me, and I wish he would just go off somewhere and get lost in the candy aisle or something.

As it is, I _do _send him to get some soda.

There isn't a long line when I go to cash out, but there's only one cashier so it takes longer than it should. Walter is quietly examining packages of gum and candy bars close by. I smile politely at the girl in front of me, who has brown hair and blue eyes and is wearing a backpack covered in colorful patches and buttons. She smiles back shyly, and I'm reminded of Rylie.

When it's her turn to pay for her items, the cashier narrows his eyes and gives her a suspicious look. "I'm gonna need to see your backpack, Miss," he says. His tone is gruff and accusatory.

The girl draws back a little. "Excuse me?"

"Your backpack. I need to see it," the man repeats, growing impatient.

"I-I...no," the girl replies, confused, shaking her head.

I've had enough. I step forward, pushing the girl behind me. "Why do you need to see her backpack?" I demand.

The man gives me a disparaging look. "Look, we've had a lot of problems with shoplifting lately," he says.

"Oh, so you're just gonna assume everyone who walks in here is stealing shit?" I reply in disgust.

"Listen, kid, this ain't none of your business-" the man begins but I cut him off.

"It _is _my business when you fuckin' interrogate an innocent girl right in front of me," I growl.

The man points his finger sharply at me. "Listen, ya little punk, you watch your mouth!"

"Is there a problem?" snarls a low, quiet voice. I turn to see Walter standing at my side, glaring dangerously at the man behind the counter. I can't help smiling at him, both surprised and grateful and, if I'm being completely honest with myself, admiring.

"Yeah, and if you're not careful, _you'll _become a part of it!" the cashier replies sharply.

That's when I become aware of two other presences converging on us- police officers, who I haven't noticed until now. I edge closer to Walter without thinking, sticking the girl in between us instinctively; I can feel my inner vigilante coming out, pulsing through my veins like fire.

Walter narrows his eyes; I see them flick from officer to officer in that wild, coldfire way he becomes on patrol. I can see his muscles rolling in preparation, his body tensing to fight. I quickly touch his arm before he does anything of the sort, and he looks at me sharply. I shake my head just slightly and his eyes grow wide. I look deliberately at the girl and then back at him.

He deliberates for a moment, and then one side of his mouth curves up into a sly, grim smile. I don't know what he's planning, but I have no doubt he can get us out of this situation so I grin back. And then, in a movement so sudden it makes me jump, he snatches the two liter of Dr. Pepper I'm holding, yells my name and throws it at the cops. It connects with the closest one's nose, and he stumbles backward into the second cop.

As soon as Walter shouts my name I jump into action, grabbing the girl's hand, veering past the cops and racing out the door. I can feel Walter right behind us, and the cops behind him.

"Wh-where are we going?" the girl cries as I pull her into the alley.

I just laugh. "Don't worry about it, just run!"

Racing through the maze of alleyways, I slam into walls and skid across the cement in my haste, looking back every once in a while to make sure Walter is still behind us. Each time I reassure myself that he is, I turn, staying at the fastest speed I can with the girl in tow- she's not as fast as me, and sometimes I feel bad when she stumbles and I have to drag her along with me.

Still. Better I drag her across the pavement than her landing herself in the hands of the cops.

Finally, I realize that we're approaching our exit. I turn to give Walter a jubilant grin. "Almost there, Southpaw," I yell to him. He simply nods without a word, glancing back to see that the cops are still in pursuit.

Turning back to face the front, I skid to a sudden halt, my mouth flying open in shock. Just outside of the alley, in the parking lot that separates us from our motel, are two cop cars, accompanied by four police officers. Waiting for us, I realize.

Walter stops at my side and we exchange a quick, apprehensive glance. The girl looks back and forth between us, fear in her eyes. She trembles and presses closer to me; I realize that she's still holding the groceries she was going to buy. _Well, if she didn't plan on shoplifting before she sure as hell has no choice now, _I think to myself wryly.

Behind us, the other police officers have slowed and are just standing there, blocking our other exit. Walter turns to face them grimly, pressing his back against mine; I face the other exit with the girl at my side.

That's one thing about Walter- he may not be your friend, but he always has your back.

Quickly, my eyes flash around, examining the situation from every angle. In front, police officers. Behind, police officers. To the left, a brick wall. To the right, a dumpster and a brick wall. I narrow my eyes; suddenly I have an idea. Or more like a loose outline of an idea.

Turning, I grab the girl by her shoulders and swing her around to the right, pressing her against the brick wall next to the dumpster. Staring intently into her eyes, I push her down until she's sitting, crouched, with her back against the wall and her left shoulder against the dumpster. "Listen to me," I tell her. "You stay right here and don't move. If they try to get you, crawl under the dumpster, got it?" She nods wordlessly, still clutching her stolen groceries, eyes still filled with fear. "We'll come back for you," I promise and give her an encouraging smile.

Then, skipping back over to Walter, I rest my arm on his shoulder and murmur quickly in his ear. "I'll take those clowns. You take these guys," I whisper, indicating the two that have followed us from the store.

"What then?" Walter hisses back.

"Remember that other alleyway a few turns up, the one near the Chinese restaurant? I'll circle around the block and you meet me there. But we've gotta get these guys away from the girl," I explain.

Walter nods and then smiles at me wryly. "See you on the other side," he mutters and then takes off, racing toward the two cops.

I swing around with a little smirk and sprint, out of the alley and toward the enemy. They all have identical expressions of near-comical surprise on their faces as I run toward them, and I start laughing. "Catch me if you can, motherfuckers!" I shout at them, swerving at the last second, just inches from their shocked faces. They reach out as I pass them- I even feel on cop's fingers graze my shoulder- but I'm off before they have a chance to really regather themselves.

I cover the parking lot in a few seconds, running at full speed now- in the exact opposite direction of safety. _It's what us vigilantes do best, _I think darkly and then laugh loudly again. Glancing over my shoulder, I grin when I see that all four cops are after me, shouting at me to stop. _No way, bitches, _I think and push myself even faster.

The city lights seem to welcome me as I step into them at breakneck speed. People gasp and leap out of my way as I slam past them, sometimes shouting profanities after me, but mostly just staring after me as though I have three extra legs.

When I reach the Chinese restaurant, I veer sharply to the right and into the alley. Racing at breakneck speed deeper into the dark, my eyes search for Walter while I keep the rest of my senses trained on my pursuers. My heart leaps excitedly when I see the dark outline of his form step quickly into my path a few yards ahead, and instinctively my legs move faster.

I don't stop when I reach him, instead flying past him as he hooks onto the spot by my side and keeps up easily.

"Now what?" he hisses.

"Uh...well, I was kinda hoping you had an idea. I've got nothing," I admit sheepishly.

"Hurm." Walter is silent for a moment, with just the sound of our feet on the pavement and our labored breathing. "We'll have to lead them somewhere to fight. We can't run forever," he finally says.

"The parking lot," I decide quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Walter nod in agreement, and with a determined nod myself, I push myself even faster, straining to my limit.

Skidding into the parking lot, my eyes quickly search the entire place for a good open space. I zero in on one- a large area right in the middle, just behind a few rows of cars.

One of the few good things about patrolling with Walter is learning how he works. We've gotten into a certain habit, an instinctual comraderie that simply falls into place in the heat of the moment. When the adrenaline starts pumping, the puzzle pieces fall into place.

The pieces are coming together now. Without saying a single word to each other, we make a beeline for a white junker of a car. I skid across the hood while Walter completely hurdles over, propelled by slamming his hands into the hood and leap-frogging it. Once we're over, we turn simultaneously on our heel to face our pursuers, falling immediately into our usual fighting positions.

When the cops see this, they draw up short, shocked. They exchange uncertain glances among each other and then turn back to us. The one in the center of their group steps forward. Glaring at me, he quickly lashes out his arm and grabs my wrist. I step forward to meet him, grabbing his wrist with my other hand and flipping both our arms upside-down. He looks up at me, shocked, and before he can do anything, I bring my free hand down once more onto his arm, with much more force this time. With a gasp of pain, he releases my wrist.

Before he recovers, I deliver a perfect blow right into his nose. There is a satisfying crunch under my knuckles, and the warm, brief burst of blood popping against my skin. He isn't expecting this at all from an unarmed citizen, I can tell. He stumbles backward, wheeling his arms to try and catch his balance; however he can't regain it before he falls right on his ass.

It doesn't take long then for the battle to ignite. The cops pull out their guns and aim to fire, but Walter and I are quicker. With quick, ferocious moves- like little explosions going off in the center of the small circle we've created with our enemies- we disarm them and fell them pretty easily. It's actually a pretty anti-climactic fight, in all honesty; I'm a bit disappointed. I look down at them, shaking my head with disgust- I was expecting a little more from our infamous cop buddies.

With a quick glance at Walter, I grin at him and he smirks back. Then I frown, suddenly remembering the girl. Walter's eyes become knowing and the smirk disappears. "The girl," he says quietly.

"Let's go," I reply and take off without another word, Walter right behind. As we run, I turn to him. "You did take care of the other two, right?" I ask him. He snorts disdainfully and that's enough answer for me. The high from our chase/fight has faded in a sudden, cold wash of dread. What if more cops appeared after we'd left and gotten to the girl?

But when we get back to the alley, the girl is still there, crouched next to the dumpster in the same huddled ball that we'd left her in. I breathe a huge sigh of relief, slowing to a stop. She looks up, her bright, tear-filled eyes huge with fear, her mouth hanging open in horror.

I grin at her encouragingly. "Don't worry, it's just us," I tell her.

Her fear changes to shock. "How...how did you get rid of them?" she asks, her voice no more than a whisper, hushed from awe and gratitude.

I just shake my head, smirking. "Practice," I answer simply. Then I extend my hand, pulling her to her feet.

She stands shyly in front of me and wipes the tears from her eyes. "Thank you," she tells me quietly, her voice thick with emotion. Then, without warning, she wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly for a moment, then quickly steps away before I can even react. Her eyes flicker cautiously over to Walter, looking up delicately from under her lashes. "Thank you," she tells him shyly.

Walter nods wordlessly, and then, looking off alertly into the depths of the alley, he murmurs, "Should go now."

I nod. "Yeah." Then, turning back to the girl, I grin at her. "Well, I hope you enjoy your stolen goods," I say.

The girl laughs. "I will," she promises.

"And stay safe, okay? Avoid that store for a while," I tell her, dropping my voice into a more serious tone.

She nods, her expression sobering. "I won't go back there at all," she vows.

I smile. "Good."

Without another word, I turn on my heel and, with Walter at my side, we leave the alley. I feel the girl's eyes on us the entire way, until we turn a corner and disappear from her line of sight.

_~r.~_

"Okay, _Jesus, _man, that was fuckin' _awesome!_" I enthuse, laughing, as Walter and I step into our motel room.

He smirks at me, looking so casual, his hands in his pockets, his blue eyes relaxed. "I'm glad to see that the past month of patrolling the slums hasn't dampened your enthusiasm," he drawls wryly.

"Ah, no way, man, it just kicks it up a notch!" I respond, sailing onto my bed and resting my arms behind my head. Walter just shakes his head in mock despair and I laugh. "Now, Mr. Southpaw, would you mind fixing me a drink?" I inquire loftily.

I laugh again when he swings around to give me a highly disbelieving look. "Yes, actually, I _would _mind," he responds and then shakes his head again. "You're unbelievable, Edward."

Grinning, I nod and stand up again. "Yeah, yeah, that's why whenever I walk into a room, people stare," I reply, heading over to the counter to pour me some Coke.

"Or maybe it's just because you're so ugly," Walter suggests.

"Oh, look who's talking."

We banter back and forth like this for a while, each of us lying on our own bed. But eventually, the banter turns into talk. Just talk. About anything and everything and nothing in particular. And I'm surprised to feel that the comraderie between us, that had peeked out at me a few times during some of our patrols and especially tonight, hasn't gone away. There's this dynamic between us in this moment, one that's familiar even though I've never experienced it with him before. Now, with the barriers lowered between us, he is shy, humble, more like a little boy than a man. And I feel _protective _of him

I realize with a jolt that I'm actually enjoying myself. And not only that. There's this dynamic between us in this moment, one that's familiar even though I've never experienced it with him before. Now, with the barriers lowered between us, he is shy, humble, more like a little boy than a man. And I feel _protective _of him, like I have to care of him, like he's my little brother or something. _Maybe Walter really isn't so bad, _I think to myself, looking at him thoughtfully.

He notices me watching and narrows his eyes warily. "What?" he demands self-consciously.

I shake my head dismissively. "Nothing, nothing," I murmur. There is a pause then in our conversation, and I stare up at the ceiling, pursing my lips and pondering something. It's the first time I've been able to think about it rationally, and though it still stings, I think that maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to handle it.

"So. Rylie," I state aimlessly after a long moment.

Walter looks at me. "What about her?"

"You like her a lot, don't you?" I'm surprised by how calm my voice sounds. I don't look at him. I continue to stare up at the ceiling, waiting for his answer.

"Yes..." he hedges, sounding both suspicious and uncertain. "She's my friend." He says it defensively, as though challenging me to make fun of him or something.

I nod, suddenly unwilling to pursue any further answer. The pain has choked me up. There is a thickness in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. _Maybe I'm not ready for this, _I think to myself, amending my former assumption.

_I can't let her go, _I think to myself, sighing and closing my eyes.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, so I've been updating this story quite frequently, which I usually try not to do, but I really want to get in as many chapters as possible since this series is going to be quite long. So that means I'll probably have the next chapter or two up in the next few days; be looking out for it! ;) Hope you enjoyed this one. Please review!


	37. Thirty Seven

NOTE: Thank you to my reviewers! You guys keep me motivated to get these chapters out faster! :) Anyway, for this chapter you will need "Time is Running Out" by Muse for when they perform it/Maury's "operation". And, I suggest you look up Muse's live "Intro/Uprising", that way you can see what I mean when I describe it. Please read on! :)

37. The Transcend (We Are the Universe)

_**Eddie**_

When I open my eyes in the morning, it's to pale white sunshine leaking in through the windows and Walter, dressed in a plain white shirt, drying his hair as he steps out of the bathroom. I blink, taken aback. _Did he really just take a shower? _I think to myself, shocked.

"Walter," I croak, my throat still thick with sleep. "Did you take a shower?"

Walter throws his towel back into the bathroom without looking at me. "Yes."

"Why?" I am mystified.

He shrugs, still avoiding my gaze. "Cadence said this was a special occasion," he finally mutters quietly, grudgingly, as though admitting a humiliating weakness.

Instantly I narrow my eyes and the warmth that I've begun to feel for him drains from me, leaving behind only an empty, cold regret. "I should probably take a shower, too. Rylie will be wanting to get going soon," I sigh, glancing at the clock. 5:25. The opening band takes the stage at seven and the gates open at 6:30.

As I grab my clothes and a towel, I see Walter smirk out of the corner of my eye. "So am I to assume Cadence still doesn't know about the meet-and-greet part of this occasion?" he inquires.

That makes me smile. I shake my head. "Not a clue," I respond. He just chuckles and I head into the bathroom to take my shower, still smiling.

Once I'm cleaned up and looking decent, Walter and I head down to the lobby to wait for the others. Jimmy and Damien are already there, looking bored and impatient. Walter and I exchange a glance and then raise our eyebrows at the two of them.

"Been waiting for a while?" Walter inquires wryly.

Jimmy immediately lets out a loud and exaggerated groan. "Ugh, you have _no fucking idea!" _he complains. "Dude, I thought _I _was bad but Rylie? Fuckin' insane." He throws his hands up in the air and shakes his head.

I chuckle. "We'll go get her," I tell him, motioning for Walter to follow me. Heading back upstairs, I glance at my phone for the time and sigh. 6:15.

"What?" Walter asks.

"Well, if want to get there with enough time to buy merchandise, which I know Rylie wants to do, we have to leave now," I explain. Walter simply rolls his eyes and shakes his head in mock despair.

When we reach Rylie's room, I knock loudly. Immediately, I hear a frazzled, breathless voice holler, "Who is it?"

"Room service, madame. We've come to service you," I reply, grinning impishly. Walter elbows me sharply in the ribs and I glare at him. "That kind of hurt," I complain and then turn back to the door when it opens.

Rylie looks out at us, her expression a mixture of exasperation and desperation. I raise an eyebrow at her inquiringly. "I can't decide what to wear!" she frets.

I rest my head in my hands. "Oh, good Lord, _again, _Rylie?" I complain. "Didn't we go through this last time?"

"Would you just get in here and help me?" she snaps back, grabbing both our arms and dragging us into her room. It's then that I realize she's only wearing a towel. Quickly I glance at Walter, looking for his reaction. His cheeks have gone a bright, rose red, his eyes wide with something that resembles horror. His fists are clenched fiercely at his sides, the skin pulled so tightly over the bones that they've turned white.

But Rylie, flustered as she is, doesn't seem to notice that she's done something taboo. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. It's strange; she's usually more sensitive to Walter little quirks. Rushing to her little closet, she pulls a short navy blue dress off its hanger. I smile, recognizing it.

"It's your sexy sailor dress," I say and she can't help smiling at me. "You should wear that," I encourage.

"Well, yeah, I was thinking about it, but don't you think it's a little short for general admission?" she frets.

"What, do you think they're going to measure it?" I reply sarcastically.

She throws me a withering look. "No," she retorts. "But if we're going to be moshing and jumping around, don't you think I should be wearing something a little more...modest?"

"Yeah, but you know how hot it gets in GA. If you wear something that covers you more, you're going to be _really _uncomfortable," I remind her.

She bites her lip uncertainly, hesitating. Then she just throws her arms up into the air. "Whatever, I'll just wear this. We don't have anymore time," she growls and heads into the bathroom to change. "Be right out," she hollers as she pulls the door closed behind her.

I shake my head and turn to Walter, prepared to crack a joke at her insanity. But I stop, startled, at his furious expression. His eyes are black with anger as they glare at me. "What?" I demand, shocked. What did I do?

"You know what," he hisses.

I narrow my eyes, instantly on the defensive. "No, I actually don't. Please enlighten me."

"'If you wear something that covers you more'?" he quotes in disgust. "You just want her to dress like a whore, your own personal prostitute. How nice," he sneers.

I gape at him, shocked and furious. "Walter, you are a _fucking _dick, do you know that? How can you even think of calling her that? Or are you a little hot in the pants yourself?" I demand. I realize that we are circling each other now in the middle of the tight room, crouched as though preparing to spring.

His lips pull back into an almost inhuman snarl. "Don't try to turn this on me. You know as well as I do that-"

"Guys, guys!" Rylie's voice, loud and almost panicked, startles me, but I keep my eyes focused on Walter. He doesn't look away from me, either.

She steps in between us, her blue eyes shocked. "Stop fighting!" she insists, caught between anger and confusion. "It's not worth it, whatever it is."

Walter and I both look sharply at her at that. I open my mouth to protest, but he is faster. "Cadence, he-"

But Rylie raises her hands to stop him. "No, Walter, I don't care. We don't have time for this. I'm sick of you guys fighting all the time. You both need to grow some and get over it!" she shouts, glaring first at him and then at me.

I can't meet her gaze so I glare at Walter. He glares right back. But under the anger, I feel something breaking. I realize that I've been clinging to a last vestige of hope, that maybe we could have made things right between us. Because I _do _want to make things right; some part of me _does _like Walter. I remember last night, talking with him, and feeling responsible for him, feeling like his older brother even though I'm the younger one. Yes, something breaks inside of me. It's a strange mixture of hatred and regret.

Without another word, Rylie, still fuming, stomps out of the room. Walter glares at me for a moment longer, then follows her. When they're gone, I relax visibly, breathing out heavily. The black anger rushes out of me with my breath, leaving only the hollow loneliness. Dejected, I follow them slowly, closing the door quietly behind me.

_~r.~_

We get to the Ford Center with five minutes to spare. We're some of the last to join the huge group waiting outside of the gates. Rylie avoids both me and Walter, picking Jimmy and Damien over us. I want to apologize, but I can't. I can't apologize to her without forgiving Walter. So the two of us stand at opposite ends of our group, glaring off into the distance with similar stances- arms crossed over our chests, faces frozen in identical resentment.

When they open the gates, Rylie, Jimmy, and Damien all exchange excited glances, bursting with anticipation. Stifling a sigh, I pull out the tickets and hand one to each of them, lastly Walter, who grabs the ticket and glares at me before ripping it from my grip. I curl my lip but don't say anything.

Once we're inside, I touch Rylie's arm. When she looks at me, her blue eyes are resigned; no longer angry, but not very friendly either. My heart aches but I try to ignore it. "Do you want to look at the merchandise counter before the show starts?" I mumble.

She nods, and I don't miss the flash of excitement in her eyes. "Yeah, let's go!" she enthuses, then sweeps off in the direction of the T-shirt table, flanked by Jimmy and Damien on either side. I follow after them, and Walter falls back a little to follow at a distance.

When we get to the counter, Rylie pushes through the crowd to get to the front and I follow, sticking closer now. After examining the apparel hanging up on the wall display, she lets out a small gasp. "They have the butterfly shirt!" she exclaims. I follow her gaze and see it, the shirt she'd wanted last time but hadn't gotten; it's a white shirt with a butterfly made out of little rainbow hexagons, resembling the cover of "The Resistance".

Telling the girl at the counter- who looks quite flustered and exhausted already- what she wants, Rylie then pulls out her money and reaches to set it on the table. I grab her arm before she can and she looks at me. "I'll pay for it," I murmur. I know that normally she would argue, but she must hear it in my voice- the heavy resignation, the flat, emotionlessness- so she simply retracts her money and steps back to let me pay.

Once inside the actual stadium- with Jimmy, Damien, and Rylie decked out in their new Muse apparel- we quickly push through the crowd already gathered near the stage to get to the front.

Walter sticks close to Rylie's side now, which I find incredibly infuriating. I have to grit my teeth and clench my fists tightly at my sides to keep from hitting him. I can see the nervousness in his eyes- uncomfortable among so many people, I realize in petulant satisfaction.

But I push away my burning emotions when the opening band takes the stage. They don't waste time with an introduction, just jump right into their first song. I'm surprised to see that they're actually pretty good.

Rylie, nodding her head vigorously to the music, turns to me and says, "They're really good. Who are they?"

"Cage the Elephant," I reply. She nods, recognition in her eyes. We've heard of them before, just never listened to their music before.

When the first song ends, we all burst into applause. Up on stage, the lead singer grabs the mic and says, "Hey, Oklahoma City. You guys ready to party?" Everyone screams, including me and my group. I'm close enough that I can see the singer smile a little. "Anyone's invited except for all the cops that are here," he continues, his voice becoming slightly insolent. Immediately, all five of us look at each other, our eyes wide with a delighted kind of surprise.

"Security's invited, too," the drummer interrupts. I frown, glancing around at the men in uniform guarding the stage.

"Well, they can come, too, they just can't wear their uniforms," the lead singer amends. "And they can't bring their handcuffs and guns. And they can't beat us up. Cuz then we would have to kick them out of our party." Everyone starts to cheer again, including myself, vigorously.

The band begins to play again, and we rock along to the song this time- with the exception of Walter, of course, who stands like the stick in the mud he is next to Rylie while the rest of us mosh.

_**Rylie**_

Cage the Elephant is very good, and I love their music. But the moment they finish their show and leave the stage, I feel my heart leap in my chest. This is it; this is why we're here.

There is a short transition, in which the roadies change the lighting and prepare the stage for Muse.

And then the music starts. Not a song I recognize, just an introduction. But my heart still flutters in my chest at the sound. I give Walter an excited, jittery look and he smiles at me.

The three cloth towers, that descend like long blocks down from the ceiling to the floor, suddenly light up. They are skyscrapers, I realize belatedly. The windows begin to light up, randomly, seemingly without reason, until all of them are lit up.

And then the windows disappear, revealing people, all glowing white and walking up stairs- perfectly in line, like dutiful subjects. There is a beat behind the sound now, and then, after a moment, there is a voice. Disjointed, separating the words in accordance to the beat: "We are the universe observing itself."

The crowd is practically bursting with energy. It is a tangible, palpable thing all around. I can even feel Walter trembling in anticipation beside me, and this makes me smile. It's no secret to me that he's become fond of Muse, and I'm glad that I can share this moment with him.

"We are the universe observing itself." This is the third time the voice says this, and, simultaneously, the people on the stairs stop, all lined up together in their skyscrapers.

Then the people start to fall.

I watch, my eyes wide with wonder, as the glowing white men tumble down the skyscrapers, knocking over other men as they do. And that's when the voice speaks again. Except this time the words are different.

"We are the universe destroying itself."

The words are so haunting, so chilling, that I shiver. The five of us stop and look at each other, knowing without speaking. We are a pocket of foresight in a sea of the blind. We are caught in time. We have transcended reality.

When the cheering grows louder, however, the connection is broken and we all turn back to the stage. The lights in the fake skyscrapers dim as we do and the noise around us grows louder in preparation.

And then the first note of "Uprising" slams through me; at the same time, the cloth skyscrapers drop, revealing three blocks that have, up until this point, been hidden in them. It's on these blocks that the band stands- lead singer on the left, bassist on the right, and drummer in the middle.

I am filled suddenly with electricity, with something so vital and pure that I almost feel like I'm shimmering with it. With the rest of the crowd, I scream, moshing and pumping my fist into the air. I haven't felt so alive, so endlessly energetic, in a long time.

Muse doesn't talk much during this show. So there aren't many breaks in between songs. We easily sweep through five in one stroke before the drummer- Dom, I remember- takes his mic and yells, "How we doin' OKC?"

Everyone, myself including, screams as a reply.

I hear him chuckle into his mic and then say, "This one's for you."

And they jump then straight into "Time is Running Out".

_**Maury**_

When I peel my eyes open, at first all I'm aware of is the pain. Pain everywhere. All kinds of pain- dull pains and sharp pains, throbbing pains and quick, precise pains. I can only think one word.

Fuck.

Dimly, things begin to register in my blurry, cloudy vision. Sights. Things that aren't familiar.

Course I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with my head cuz that's the only place I can't feel any pain; it's just numb. So maybe I've suffered some kind of memory loss or something.

My eyes begin to clear a little, and as they do I'm sure. I have never been here before...wherever here is. All I can really see is the gray tile wall in front of me, and a thick wooden door to the left. There is a rectangular window above the doorknob, but I can't see anything but darkness through it.

I begin to register that I am lying on my back, covered by a white sheet, on some kind of bed or something. There are bars on the sides. It reminds me of a hospital bed.

_A hospital, _I realize. _Yeah, that's it! I'm in a hospital. _That explains the pain and the exhaustion and the memory loss. Where was I before this? I can't remember.

There are people around me. They're talking but I can't really hear them; everything is muffled, like someone stuffed cotton in my ears. All of them are dressed in white, doctor's garb. I can't see their faces though; they're wearing face masks and all I can see are their eyes.

They are leaning over me, discussing something. Must be my leg, since they keep looking down at it. I watch them curiously, wanting to ask them what is going on, but I can't seem to find my voice.

And then one of the doctors reaches down and prods my leg with something- and a sharp pain lances up my leg, taking my breath away. There is a brief moment in which I have to struggle to breathe.

And then, gathering oxygen into my lungs, I let out a huge and anguished scream.

_**Rylie**_

This is amazing and I can't quite seem to get a grip on it. It feels, like the last time, as though I've somehow stepped into an alternate dimension (_/transcended reality/_).

_I think I'm drowning/Asphyxiated/I wanna break the spell that you've created._

Glancing to my right, I see Jimmy and Damien throwing their bodies into jamming out to the song and I laugh.

Behind me, Eddie is bobbing his head to the beat, eyes closed, as though concentrating completely on the music. I feel a sharp stab of pain, remembering the morose look in his eyes from before. I don't want to hurt him. I just want things to go back to normal between us. But he can't keep insisting on fighting with Walter.

Looking at Walter, I realize that he is completely motionless besides being jostled by the crowd. He is stiff, unmoving, staring up at the stage as though concentrating on not hitting somebody. Glancing down at his hands, I realize that they are balled up into tight fists.

I feel my expression twist with sympathy. I should've thought of how uncomfortable he'd be in such a crowd.

I bite my lip, hesitating. There is something I want to do, but...I don't know how he'll react.

_You're something beautiful/A contradiction/I wanna play the game/I want the friction._

I continue to watch him, and he continues to watch the stage.

_**Maury**_

Of course the doctors look at me right away and, seeing the tears of pain that are stinging my eyes, they come closer to my head. The one on the left, the one who had touched my leg, bends down and stares into my eyes. He's so close that I can see, behind his glasses, his hazel eyes have little patches of blue in them.

I try to open my mouth again and tell him to make the hurt go away, but only a soft croak comes out. Frustrated and still pulsing with pain, I close my eyes tightly and whimper.

When I open them again, the doctor has leaned away and started talking with the other man again. Outraged, I growl loudly, high-pitched with pain. Neither of them look at me.

Suddenly, I am filled with a huge and pressing sense of overwhelming _wrong. _Something is definately not right here. My heart begins to pound in my chest. Adrenaline starts to pump through my veins. _Danger! _my nerves seem to shout. My body still sings with pain, but it has lessened, now, with this epiphany.

Then the doctors walk away, heading over a counter to the right. My stomach does a little flip inside me. I watch them apprehensively, certain that whatever is coming next, I'm not going to like it.

When the doctors turn back to me, the one with the glasses is holding some kind of hand saw. The other man wields a drill. My stomach does a few more flips.

I am unquestionably sure now that I am in danger.

_**Rylie**_

The lights, the heat, the music. All of this pounds around me, seems to pound _within _me, to the beat of my fluttering heart.

With anyone else, this would be elementary, simple, no big deal.

But with Walter, every little thing holds a much greater weight.

I continue to chew on my bottom lip, worrying it while I watch Walter.

_Our time is running out._

Finally, I've had enough. There's no reason that I shouldn't just do it. _What's the big deal? _I try to convince myself.

And so with that, I reach out and take Walter's hand in mine.

_**Maury**_

I want to scream so badly, but my throat has closed up with panic. I can only stare with wide, horrified eyes as the two doctors converge on me. _Maybe it won't be so bad, _I think to myself.

But they come over to my head, and then behind me, where I can't see them anymore. Panic flutters even more furiously throughout my entire body, intensifying and yet also paling the pain.

My head remains numb, but I am aware of a sudden uncomfortable pinching on my scalp. I can't tell exactly where it is on my head, or what's doing it to me, but I have a vague sense that it's cold. It is followed by a strange, unnatural tugging, as though someone...someone...

_Someone is...oh SHIT! SOMEONE IS PULLING OFF MY SKIN! _The realization in my mind is blaringly loud, so loud I'm shocked the doctors can't hear it. I try to scream but I can't. It feels like someone is squeezing my lungs. For all I know, they might be.

And then, though everything else has been muffled up to this point, I suddenly hear a high, keening screech, very loud, right next to my ear.

The saw. I hear it only too well. One of the doctors carefully turns my head to the side. I'm even more aware now, achingly aware, of how the blood sloshes from one side to the other in my head. Is it leaking out now, out from the hole in my skin that they've created?

My head spins dizzingly, not from blood loss, I realize, but from the thoughts in it. I'm not really squeamish, but this is unnatural, it's too much.

I pretend I don't hear it when the saw cuts, unbelieveably loud, into my skull.

_**Rylie**_

He looks down at our interlocked fingers immediately, suspiciously. He stares at them for a long moment and then slowly looks up at me. I give him my most encouraging smile.

_I wanted freedom/Bound and restricted/I tried to give you up/But I'm addicted._

After a long pause, he smiles tentatively back. Relief, followed by a fierce, bright joy, fills me, like sudden sunlight in my chest. I give his hand a quick, comforting squeeze and, after a slight hesitation, I feel him squeeze back.

_Now that you know I'm trapped/Sense of elation/You'd never dream of/Breaking this fixation._

Together, we turn back to the stage, smiling.

_**Maury**_

When my vision starts to slip away, I welcome it gladly. But the damn sadistic bastard with the glasses slaps me several times on my cheek to keep my conscious.

There's blood spattered on his glasses, and that's almost too much for me. I want to puke, run, pass out, something, _anything _to get my mind off of what's happening to me. Hell, I don't even know exactly what _is _happening to me, just that they're taking apart my skull like it's some puzzle to be put back together or something.

But I can't do anything. I can't do anything except lie there and take it.

There is pressure in my head now, that almost makes me wonder if it's going to explode. There's still no pain, but that's almost scarier. I can't hear anything besides the saw. Or maybe it's the drill now. I haven't really been keeping track. They're both disturbing, monstrous tools to be using on a patient. If that's what I am.

That's when the horrifying thought occurs to me, belatedly. What if I'm not a patient? I still can't remember where I was before this or what I was doing. But I remember further back, to the fight with the suits, and the disappearances of my brothers. What if I'm... I close my eyes tightly. _No! _my mind shrieks. _This isn't happening!_

_Well, you're the one who's getting dismantled, so... _I retort. I close my eyes even tighter, clench my fists under the sheets, force myself to think the word.

Experiment.

I am an experiment.

_**Rylie**_

Toward the end of the concert, I become aware of two things. One is that I'm desperately tired and hot, but unwilling to give in to it. And second...

Walter still hasn't let go of my hand.

This, coupled with the fact that I'm at a Muse concert, has me floating on air by the end of it. I'm riding a wave of ecstasy and pure energy, energy generated by the band, and by every single person around me.

It's during the last song that this energy reaches its fever pitch.

When they begin to play "Knights of Cydonia", Eddie and I exchange an excited glance. This is one of our favorite songs by them- rebellious, intense, and insanely blood-pounding. The crowd starts to go wild. Somehow I know this is there last song, though they haven't said that it is; there's just an edge of finality to it, a feeling that we've come full circle.

So I scream. I scream till my lungs feel like their going to burst and my throat feels like it's on fire. I thrust my fist into the air and shout the lyrics and everyone in that stadium shouts with me: "No one's gonna take me alive/The time has come to make things right/You and I must fight for our rights/You and I must fight to survive." It's one of the most wonderful feelings of unity I've ever experienced, and I'll never forget it. Hundreds of people, pounding their fists into the air in rebellious union, unknowingly resisting the government with the words they sing.

Our group shouts them the loudest, I'm sure. Even Walter, though I'm sure he will deny it later. It's impossible, though, for someone like him, or me, or Eddie, to resist singing to a song like this one. This song beats in our hearts everyday, in our blood, in our bones. It was born within us, from the very first breath we ever took. We were born to fight.

When the song finally ends and the last note fades, trails off until I can't hear it anymore, then people start to leave. They leave slowly, exhausted and unwilling. Reluctantly, I turn to follow them.

But Eddie grabs my arm. I turn to him, puzzled, and he shakes his head. "No, no, no, _we _go _this _way," he says, motioning back behind the stage.

I look first at where he's pointing, then back at him, horribly confused. "Eddie, I don't think there are exits that way..." I tell him doubtfully.

But he smirks and hands me something. "I never said we were leaving," he replies.

Looking down, my eyes fly open wide once I realize what he's handed me. "_Backstage passes?" _I shriek. This is unbelieveable; this is beyond amazing. I leap into Eddie's arms, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I keep repeating into his ear.

He laughs, squeezing me tightly. "No problem, chica," he replies, then lowers me to my feet.

"How did you pull this off?" I ask breathlessly. It feels like the huge grin on my face is irreversable, as though I'll never be able to erase it from my face.

"Malcom pulled some strings," Eddie replies, shrugging. Guess that shouldn't surprise me. Malcom runs with the big dogs; he has connections.

"Holy _shit, _this is the absolute coolest thing...I don't even..._oh my God!" _I continue to gush and then my expression turns disapproving. "I hope there's one for everybody." Though I say everybody, both Eddie and I know I only mean one person in particular.

He sighs, resigned. "Don't worry. There's one for each of us," he reassures me.

"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" Jimmy exclaims.

Eddie laughs. "Okay, okay. Here," he says, handing out the backstage passes quickly and then leading us back behind the stage, which seems empty and desolate now without Muse on it.

There is a guard standing near something that resembles a tent. He looks at us curiously, expectantly, but I'm surprised to see that he doesn't appear hostile in any way. _Not like cops, _I remind myself quickly.

Eddie smiles at him and then motions to the rest of us. "We're here to meet Muse," he explains, and we all hold up our passes.

The guard nods to us, smiling slightly. "Go on in," he allows, stepping aside to let us through. That's when my heart begins to pound, in nervous, excited palpitations. I'm about to meet my favorite band. I'm about to meet Muse. Holy _shit. _

I'm not really expecting, however, what I hear as I head, suddenly shy and hesitant, into the tent.

"...Oh, just suck on my avagandra!"

"I think it was actually prepare to suck on my alaganza."

"Well, I like mine better."

"I like your avagandra, too."

The words jar me to a halt quite suddenly, and Eddie rams into me, pushing me the last few steps into the tent. We both struggle to stay upright as we stumble forward. "What the hell did you stop for?" he whispers sharply to me.

"I...heard something weird," I snap back, pushing him away from me and then turning, blushing a deep red when I realize that three very familiar men are staring at us, bemused.

"Hello," the lead singer- Matthew Bellamy- says, raising an eyebrow at us.

"Uh..." I trail off, struggling to find words in my suddenly dry mouth. "Hi," I finally manage and then make a face at my elementary response.

"Don't worry, we have passes," Eddie interjects quickly, holding up his pass.

Bellamy slaps his forehead with his palm. "Oi, I forgot," he says, in his very thick British accent. "I'm sorry, we've just been so busy lately." With that, he strides forward, hand extended toward me. Trying to disguise my awe, I shake his hand and he smiles at me, a brilliant, breath-taking smile. "Matthew Bellamy," he says.

I nod. "I know. My name's Rylie, Rylie Howard," I reply.

He nods. "Nice to meet you," he says and then moves on to meet the rest of my group. Dom comes to me next, smiling at me welcomingly, followed by bassist Chris Wolstenholme, whose much more shy than the other two.

"Ehm, this really isn't how we usually do these things, sorry," Bellamy says after we've all been introduced. He gives us an apologetic look. "Usually we're more prepared, but lately...Well, never mind. Come, sit, we'll make room," he continues, ushering us over to the fold-out chairs that are jammed and wedged into every available corner, between amps and guitars and various wires that are connected to mysterious, hidden outlets.

Once we're all seated, the band turns to us expectantly and I flush, realizing that we don't really know what we're doing, either. "Um, sorry. We haven't actually done this before, so..." I trail off.

"Dammit, I should've brought something for them to sign!" Jimmy complains.

Dom just laughs. "Don't worry about it," he says. I blink, noticing that there are circles under his eyes, so dark they seem permanently etched there. In fact, all of them bare the same resemblence to a tortured insomniac. But that's probably just because they've been busy with touring lately.

"So, what's it like playing for venues like this?" Eddie asks, leaning forward eagerly. There is a gleam in his eyes that I don't miss, and I smile a little. I know exactly what he's thinking of- _our _band.

Dom nods. "It's great. It's always so..._uplifting _to see so many people out there supporting us," he responds, and there is sincerity in every word. For some reason, I'm touched. I'm not sure what I was expecting before, but I realize at that moment that it wasn't this..._normality _that the band exudes. They're just...people. Regular people who happen to be in the greatest band in the world.

"It's loads of fun, though, playing for even bigger venues," Bellamy enthuses, his eyes bright. I stifle a laugh; he reminds me of an eight-year-old with ADD. "It's like, you get all of our supporters in one place and let them loose."

I have to laugh at that. "You make us sound like animals."

He grins at me. "Feels like it sometimes, though, yeah?"

I think of patrolling with Walter and Eddie, with Jimmy and Damien. How we fight. How we _live _to fight. I think of tonight, pumping my fist in the air with hundreds of other people that I don't even know, moshing with them, shouting rebellious lyrics into the air like bullets. "Yeah," I finally reply simply.

"By the way...you guys are fucking amazing live. Just saying," Eddie says.

Bellamy ducks his head, and I'm surprised to see a flash of shyness on his beautiful face. "Thank you," he murmurs and then, looking up, he flashes us a grin. "We try."

"Especially 'Knights of Cydonia'," Eddie continues, glancing at me. And I see it in his eyes- we're both remembering that feeling, that connection only a few minutes prior, to something much greater than ourselves.

"And 'United States of Eurasia'," I add quietly, remembering. The rest of the group looks at me solemnly, and I know we're all sharing the same thoughts. When Muse had performed that song, the cubes on which they were standing had been lit up, not with skyscrapers or windows anymore, but with faces. Faces of hundreds, _thousands, _of people, like they were categorized into some giant database. I imagine that's probably how the government has us, all neatly filed away, nothing more concerning than a few pictures, meaningless...

"The faces," I say quietly, and my group nods. Walter meets my gaze and his eyes are sad. We don't have to say anything; we know what the other is thinking.

"Ah, yeah. The faces," Bellamy says and I turn to him. He and his band are eyeing us with peculiar expressions on their faces. "We wanted to make it meaningful. 'Big brother is watching you' and all that. Like _1984. _We wanted anti-government sentiment. After all, what have we got to lose? Our freedoms?" He snorts then, disdainful, disgusted.

"We've already lost them," Dom mutters, and the two exchange a dark look.

"If we ever had them in the first place," Eddie scoffs and the three of them look at us sharply.

After a moment, a huge grin spreads across Bellamy's face. "Well, now, it seems we've stumbled upon some fellow Red Pill poppers," he says in true satisfaction.

"Red Pill?" I echo, puzzled.

"You ever see 'The Matrix'?"

I shake my head and he gapes at me. I hold up my hands defensively. "Sorry. I've never seen it."

"Well, _anyway," _he continues, leveling a mock accusatory glare at me. "In the movie, the main character- Neo- goes to this guy named Morpheus and Morpheus offers him two pills. One is the blue pill, which represents blissful ignorance. And the red pill," he pauses then meaningfully. "Represents the truth."

I feel a shock run through me. For a moment that seems to last forever, but which is really only a heartbeat, we all stare at each other, and there is that feeling of unity again. Stronger now, impossibly. I never thought it could get stronger.

_I have to document this moment, _I think to myself determinedly. That's when I realize that I've stupidly left my camera in the car. Leaping up very suddenly from my seat and likewise startling everyone else, I turn to Damien. "We need to go out to the car now!"

He draws back, surprised. "For what?"

"I left my camera in there!" I exclaim urgently.

Walter gives me a strange look. "Why do you need your camera?"

I give him a look and motion with exaggerated movements at the tent and the people around us. "Why do you _think _I need it?"

"Well, if you need it then why didn't you just bring it inside before?"

I just throw my hands up in the air, exasperated. "Never mind, Walter," I say in a 'you're-hopeless-and-you'll-never-get-it' kind of voice. Then I turn to Bellamy, suddenly struck by a random thought. "By the way, what in the hell is an avagandra? Or an alaganza, or whatever?"

But Bellamy just laughs; it's Walter who gives me a weird look again. Bellamy grins and leans over to nudge him with his elbow. "You'll drive yourself crazy trying to figure out women," he says teasingly.

But Walter stiffens and edges away from him, his eyes narrowed and his freckled cheeks flushing with color. "What makes you think I'm trying to figure them out?" he demands, defensive. I glare at him, but Bellamy just chuckles, seemingly unbothered by his rude behavior.

The night is unseasonably chilly as Damien and I race into the underground parking lot for my camera. It cuts through my warm feeling and pierces me underneath my skin. I struggle to recall what it feels like, and then goosebumps blossom on my skin, both from pleasure and foreboding.

It feels like truth.

_"You take the blue pill- the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill- you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes." - Morpheus, "The Matrix"_

__AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I hope you all enjoyed the show :) Just for the record, Muse really does believe a lot of the stuff that I've put into this story. There's even a section on their website called "RED PILL" and it lists Infowars and Prisonplanet underneath. Pretty cool, yeah? Well, I think so. Oh, and if you ever have the means I highly recommend that you go to a Muse concert- I've been to one, and it's AMAZING. I can't even put into words how unbelievable it was. _Anyway, _please review, they make me smile! :)


	38. Thirty Eight

NOTE: Okay, this is just a short little chapter that I've had on my mind for a while (actually, it's sort of been stalking me lately :P) And actually I guess it's not actually that short...Huh. Odd; it felt like it to me...Anyway, I'm rambling. You will need "Judas" by Lady GaGa for when Rylie is dancing and "Let's Get Lost" by Beck and Bat For Lashes for the scene where Rylie takes Walter into the city to try and cheer him up. Please enjoy! :)

38. Clumsy Little Thing

_**Rylie**_

Since the concert, things have returned to semi-normal. We keep up our constant cycle of band practice-training-patrolling, but with a few little twists. The first is that we now know we're not completely alone; in fact, we're keeping good company.

Muse told us that they were going out undercover as truthers at night, so that they could help other truthers spread the word through graffiti and protests. It was why they had looked so perilously tired at the concert. In turn, we'd trusted them with _our _secrets- that we were truthers, and that we were the new vigilantes who were slowly stealing the scene (though, truth be told, I was hard-pressed to convince Walter it was okay to do so).

So now, through emails and occasional phone calls, we keep in touch with them, exchanging information and news. A pretty exciting turn of events, if I do say so myself.

The second twist, however, is not as exciting. In fact, it's downright miserable and, truthfully, it has me worried most nights. Because now, Eddie insists on patrolling _without _Walter.

Granted, Jimmy and Damien go with him. But they are all still so new to this. Without experience, I know all too well that they could make a rookie mistake and end up dead.

This little rift in our group is due entirely to the new enmity between Eddie and Walter. Well, not _completely _new, since it's always been there. Different is a better way to describe it. Stronger. Something happened on our mini vacation to our little group- it brought us all closer together, and yet strengthened the hatred that Eddie and Walter have for each other at the same time.

Yes, together we are all united because we know we're fighting for something bigger than ourselves. But at the same time, the animosity between the two of them has strengthened. In a quiet, more mature way, but strengthened it has.

So Eddie patrols with Jimmy and Damien, while I patrol with Walter. And it's always a relief to me to come home and meet the other three at my house; until I see them again- alive- I have trouble breathing correctly- as though they've punched little holes in my lungs that can only be filled once I'm sure they're safe.

It's a bit strange, patrolling only with Walter. Or, rather, Rorschach. If I were patrolling with Walter, it would be easier. But I'm not used to being with Rorschach for such extended amounts of time; I've always had the other three there as a buffer.

For a while, it was almost excrutiatingly awkward, since Rorschach definately doesn't like me much. But I'd toughed it out, taking comfort from the fact that Walter was always there just under the surface. In fact, I'd sometimes seen glimpses of him, too, which was nice; a little treat on patrol.

However, a lot of these glimpses seem to happen at my own expense. Of course. If there's one thing I've learned from the whole Walter/Rorschach experience, it's that sacrifice is key to any relationship.

_**Rorschach**_

Cadence is a klutz.

There's really no other way to word it. She is a clumsy little thing, a constant nuisance on patrol.

But she makes me laugh- something that Rorschach doesn't appreciate but that I do. My own personal little comedian, even if she doesn't mean to be.

Like the first time she tried to kick in a door.

She had seen me do it plenty of times, but had never tried it herself, or even showed an interest. So I'd been surprised when, on patrol one night, she suddenly stopped me from kicking in a door.

"_I _want to do it," she'd whined, sounding like a brat.

I'd cocked my head at her, surprised. "Know how?" I'd asked.

She'd rolled her eyes behind her mask. "I think I get the gist of it," she'd replied. I'd shrugged and stepped aside to let her do it.

After a pause, she'd lifted her leg and slammed the bottom of her foot into the door. But the door hadn't budged. Instead, the force of the impact had sent her flying backwards into the wall behind her, where she'd slid down to the floor.

I'd stared at her for a moment, rigid with surprise and unsure of how to react. But the look on her face- dazed, shocked, comically surprised- was too much and it sent me over the edge. Rorschach, snarling, had receded into the background while I had taken control, doubling over in a fit of helpless laughter. It was a good thing that we hadn't been breaking into someplace to catch someone- only to find information. Otherwise I would have been laughing while trying to detain them and _that _would not have been helpful.

Then there had been the time when we'd had to chase two thieves all the way across town. We'd chased them from the south side of town, through the downtown area, and were just closing in on them near the abandoned Riverfront Mall near my old warehouse when we'd had to hop the fence.

I hadn't been expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen. Cadence had jumped fences before. Granted, this one was a bit taller than she was used to, but I had figured it wouldn't harry her too much. Besides, in the heat of the moment, there hadn't been time for doubt.

I only noticed she wasn't with me when I'd finally caught the two robbers. Panic had filled me when I'd realized she was gone, so I quickly handcuffed the men to a streetlamp and retraced my steps in search of her.

When I'd found her, she was dangling from the top of the fence, the seat of her jeans having been caught on the chainlink. She'd stared at me flatly, daring me to say something.

But I couldn't help myself. I'd started chuckling, shaking my head at her predicament.

"It's not funny!" she'd snapped.

"It is from _my _perspective," I'd replied insolently.

"Would you just get me the fuck down?"

And it wasn't just on patrol, either. Sometimes, I allow Cadence and the others a break from training for a day, and usually Cadence prefers to spend these days with me.

On one of these days, Cadence had suggested we head into town, just to walk around. She likes to do that; just walk and enjoy everything around her. So I'd agreed and we had just gotten to 23rd Street- something she and her friends now called "the Straight" as a codename- and she had been arguing with me.

"...No, Walter, that is not the point. It's not just about vampires, it's about love!" It wasn't a serious fight, but she had been trying to explain to me why she enjoyed the "Twilight" series so much. As far as I could tell, it just seemed like a cleverly disguised way to advertise lust and avarice.

She had been so absorbed in our argument that she hadn't noticed the light had changed- she stepped into the intersection without thinking. Everything had happened so fast that I was surprised by the clarity of my memory afterward; it had seemed to happen in double time, and yet I'd been able to absorb every detail.

Roaring up from the left, a huge city bus had been barreling toward her. It wouldn't have had time to stop. For a fraction of an instant, I had been frozen, and all I could think was, _Not her. _

In the next heartbeat, I had lunged forward, wrapping my arms tightly around her and then leaping backward, out of the way again. A second later, the bus had raced past us, horn blaring as it passed.

I'd held onto her for a moment longer, tightly, ascertaining that she really was safe, in my arms; in that second, I had been paralyzed by the irrational, choking fear that maybe I'd only _imagined _pulling her out of the way, that reality would shift if I let her go. My eyes had been wide with horror and shock, and when I had finally pried my arms from her I'd seen that her expression was a mirror image of mine. _Seconds, _I'd thought. _That's all that stood in the way. _

First had been the shock. Next had come the anger, the blinding, blistering fury that had lashed inside of my chest like a snake. The beast inside of me had been roaring, so loudly I was surprised no one else heard.

I'd leaned over her, glaring deep into her eyes. She'd leaned away, cowering from my staggering rage. "_Don't you have any sense at all? Do you understand how easily you could have been killed?" _I'd thundered.

"I-I'm sorry-" she'd tried to stammer, but I'd cut her off.

"Don't you _ever _do anything so stupid or reckless again, do you understand me?" She'd nodded, too overcome with fear to argue. The rage had continued to beat in time with my heart, but I'd forced myself to come down before I lost it completely. I didn't want to hurt her...just knock some sense into her.

After a moment, struggling to get ahold of myself, I'd sighed sharply. Then I'd looked into her eyes again, which were swimming with tears, and tried to convey without words why I was angry. _Do you not understand, _I'd wanted to scream, _how it would destroy me if anything happened to you?_

"I'm sorry," she'd repeated, her words thick with unshed tears.

"I know," I'd responded shortly, because- though I wanted to shout some more- she clearly wasn't in the state to handle it. Then, thinly, I'd smiled. "Next time you want to jump in front of a bus, do it when I'm not around, okay?"

She'd laughed- a weak, hysterical sound. "I don't jump out in front of buses, buses jump out in front of _me_!" she'd declared.

And, miraculously, I had laughed, though my insides had still been churning.

Still, there are nights when Cadence is _not _a klutz, which I am thankful for.

And then there are nights like this...

_**Rylie**_

The rain pours down heavily, as though the sky is crying, too. Rorschach and I look down at the body silently, mournfully, and I don't try to fight the tears that stream down my face, mixing with the rain. Down below me, the pool of blood surrounding the body mixes with the rain, too.

No one else is around. I'm half glad, and half full of a burning anger. I wish I could get my hands on whoever had done this. The boy below us is no more than sixteen, probably younger.

Or at least he had been.

The bullet through his chest had ended that, though. Cut short his life, which was only beginning. I glare through the rain and the tears fall harder.

A few minutes earlier. If we'd been a few minutes earlier, we could have saved him. The thought has my stomach churning sickly and my hands balling into fists so tight they scream with pain.

This is what I hate most about this job. Knowing we _could _have done something.

"We should move him," I finally murmur, finding my voice. It sounds strange after the long quiet, almost rude, as though I'm breaking into some kind of sacred silence.

Rorschach nods. "Yes. Shouldn't leave him here. Not proper," he agrees quietly.

With a little nod in his direction, I bend over to lift him by the shoulders. But Rorschach stops me and I look at him questioningly. "Identification," he says simply. I feel the color drain from my face. Right. I realize at that point that, though overcome with sadness, I'd been containing it by only thinking about the loss of the boy himself. I'd been restraining myself from thinking of his family, his friends, people who love him and will miss him and will be devastated...

My stomach rolls uncomfortably as I reach into his pockets to look for any kind of ID.

_~r.~_

With a tired sigh, I pull off my mask and set it on my drawer. Walter pulls his off, too, in his room next door, and neither of us look at each other, too depressed by tonight's patrol.

We'd been able to find the boy's parents. It had been nearly impossible to tell them, unbearable to look into their eyes and see their grief, wretched to intrude on such an intimately mournful scene. But Rorschach had stood solidly at my side, a reassurance, even offering brief, gruff words of comfort to the parents; I hadn't been able to help feeling proud of his quiet sympathy.

Finally, I look over at Walter, who is taking off his drenched costume. He looks back at me and I smile at him slightly; I try to make the expression encouraging but it feels flat even to me. Both our eyes are dull, subdued, full of regret.

He doesn't smile back. He simply looks at me for a long moment and then looks away. "I'm going to sleep now," he says quietly.

I look down, the smile fading from my lips, and nod. "Alright. See you in a few hours then," I reply. He just nods silently and shuts his door. With a sigh, I shut mine, too, and attempt to sleep myself.

_~r.~_

At noon, Walter and I are standing in the garage, waiting for Jimmy and Damien to finish setting up. We stare at each other, neither of us feeling the need to look away. We are standing in similar postures of resignation and exhaustion- arms crossed over our chests, shoulders slumped, bodies relaxed but only by defeat. Our eyes stay locked, and in his dull gaze I seen mine reflected. It's as though we're sharing the same thoughts, having a conversation without words- neither one of us can stop thinking about that boy.

So it startles us both when Eddie comes barreling in, eyes gleaming, waving something excitedly in our faces. "Look what I found, Rylie!" he exclaims, shoving what appears to be an old newspaper in my face.

Reading the name at the top, I can't help gasping in surprise, my eyes widening in shock. It's an old copy of "The New Frontiersman". "Oh my God, Eddie, where did you find this?" I ask.

"Stashed in some old boxes in my attic. I remembered that I took some from Dad when I moved but I couldn't remember until last night where I had them," he explains.

"What is it?" Walter asks dully, as though not particularly interested. I show him and his eyes grow wide. Recognition flashes in his eyes, and I realize that he already he's already familiar with this paper, too. I feel an unexpected shaft of ice slide through my stomach at the thought and I shiver.

He snatches it from me and his eyes flicker wildly as he scans it. I know what he's searching for, so I lean over his shoulder and point it out to him. Then Eddie and I step away to give him some space.

"What entry was that?" I ask him once we're a little ways off; I'm not sure why, but I feel a little uneasy. I realize with surprise that I don't really want Walter to know all of his past right now. It just feels...wrong.

"The American love entry, I think," Eddie replies, glancing at Walter, as though sensing my anxiety. "You know, the one about the Coke bottles."

I nod, remembering. It had been one of my favorite entries as a child, so poetic, and that's probably why Eddie had saved it.

"I'm sorry," he says unexpectedly, and I look at him in surprise.

"For what?"

"For showing him. Maybe it wasn't such a brilliant idea," Eddie explains, sounding guilty.

I shake my head, though he's exactly right. "No, it's okay. I suppose he'll have to learn of his past eventually," I sigh.

Later that afternoon, I'm in the shop. I'm by myself; Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien have all gone into town, and Walter's inside eating dinner, so I've decided to spend this time practicing something I haven't practiced in a while- dancing. Aside from dancing with Eddie in the aspen room, I haven't danced in a long time. It makes me a little sad that I haven't been able to keep up with it; dancing is always something I've loved to do.

With my ihome providing the background music- "Judas" by Lady GaGa- I start to move and twist to the music. I don't have any particular goal, I just want to dance. So I concentrate on feeling the music- in my pores, in my muscles, in my bones- until I _am _the music.

It's not until the end of the song that I realize he's standing there, watching me. I stop dancing immediately, flushing with color, until I feel I might just burst into flames from embarrassment. Then I glare at him. "Could you, like, cough or something to let me know you're there?" I snap.

He just raises an eyebrow at me. "Apologies," he says quietly. He seems to be struggling to say something, and I know him well enough to see embarrassment in his eyes, too. I tip my head to the side. What does _he _have to be embarrassed about?

"Didn't know you were...such a good dancer," he finally mumbles, looking everywhere but me. Ah. Now it makes sense.

I blush again, but feel myself practically sparkle with pleasure. "Thanks," I reply. He looks up at me then, nods once, and comes in to sit by me on the workbench. I turn my off my ipod and then smile at him, clapping my hands together briskly. "So. What's up?" I ask, because, clearly, there is something else on his mind.

He shrugs, seeming almost surly. "Nothing," he grumbles.

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? Doesn't seem that way."

Walter snorts and then rolls his eyes up toward me, glaring. "You're much too perceptive for your own good sometimes," he mutters.

"No, you're just transparent," I lie.

He snorts. "Hardly," he responds, and then he sighs and the sarcasm leaves his eyes, leaving behind a dull, depressed vulnerability. I feel my own expression twist in sympathy and sadness; still thinking about the boy.

"It's true, you know," he mumbles after a moment. He doesn't look at me.

"What's true?"

"That American love is dead," he says and looks up at me then. His ice blue eyes are hard and cold, severe, as though he's daring me to challenge him.

I hesitate. Some part of me knows he's wrong- _Love never dies, _I think to myself stubbornly. But another part of me, the cynical and probably more rational part of me, remembers the boy and shakes my resolve. _They've destroyed love, _that part of me whispers spitefully.

_Was offered Swedish love and French love...but not American love. American love- like Coke in green glass bottles. They don't make it anymore. _My mind quotes his journal word for word; there are many passages I've memorized, but this was- aside from his last entry- is probably the most potent in my memories.

Walter stands and shakes his head. "I'm going back inside," he mumbles and heads out again. I blink after him, wishing I could say something- clearly he's feeling as depressed as I am. But how can I help him, when I can't even claw my way out of my own sorrow?

As I'm standing there, I watch the light grow steadily darker outside. It'll soon be time to head out on patrol once more, and face another evening of this job.

And I'm just not sure I can do it.

Not that I want to quit; I _know _I was born for this job. But not tonight. I can't do it tonight.

Narrowing my eyes in determination, I march out the door after Walter, having made up my mind. When I find him, he's upstairs in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, staring down at his hands clasped in his lap. He looks up at me.

"Walter," I say, and I'm pleased to find that my voice rings with authority. "We are going out," I declare.

He blinks at me, puzzled. "It's not time yet, Cadence. We can wait for a while longer," he tells me. His voice is subdued.

I shake my head. "No, I don't mean that it's time for patrol. We're going out. Come on," I tell him.

"What...do you mean, 'going out'?"

"Just come with me, Walter," I order, then grab his hand and tug him out the door. He doesn't put up much of a fight, but I think that's mostly due to his depression.

It isn't raining when we first get into town, but a few droplets have made themselves known, so I don't think the dryness will hold out much longer. Everything is quiet, settled down for the night. Of course, Walter and I both know that's not completely true, but tonight we're not paying attention to that.

"Why are we here, Cadence?" Walter asks dully after I've dragged him a couple blocks. He doesn't pull his hand from mine, but he doesn't hold it either.

"We need a break from patrol tonight. We need to lose ourselves a little," I explain.

"And you thought that coming into the city would be the best way to do that?" he inquires. The way he says it- dull and flat, yet still managing to sound sarcastic- makes me feel stupid. Of course he's right; after last night, how could I even think this could help?

But I try to defend myself. "I just..._feel..._that this could help. Bring us closure, you know," I say.

His eyes narrow infinitesimally, but I notice all the same. "The only thing that could bring me closure is finding the scumbag who did it," he growls. I feel his hand tighten in mine.

I sigh. Maybe this was a horrible idea. My sudden moment of clarity is starting to fade, leaving behind the depression. But there's more to it than that, and I struggle to understand what it is. I cock my head to the side curiously once I do.

Inside me, there is a distinct feeling that I'm missing something. That I'm right on the verge of finding...whatever it is, and that I must keep searching.

"C'mon," I mutter quietly, keeping my hand tight around Walter's as I take him through an alley. The rain starts to fall then, and I try not to take it as a bad omen.

They're waiting for us, of course. Like little beacons glinting in the light cast from a streetlamp opposite. They wink at us, gleaming in the rain, under a pile of garbage. But there they are.

My heart leaps into my throat, and the feeling of missing something disappears, to be replaced by a sense of closure. "Walter!" I gasp.

He looks at me, confused, and I realize he hasn't seen them. "What?" he demands, sounding irritated by my sudden outburst.

Frantically I point at the bottles, my eyes wide with excitement. "Look!"

He obeys, and it takes him a moment to realize what I'm getting at. And then he looks back at me, and his blue eyes are suddenly wide and gleaming with what I can only call hope. "Cadence," he says and I nod.

"I know." Smiling widely at him, I tug him the last few feet through the rain and then kneel down to examine one of the bottles. It's a Coke bottle, and new by the look of it. Looking at the bottom, there is a "2010" printed in the glass.

"It's new," I breathe, staring at it in wonder. Holding it feels like holding some kind of holy relic- the Holy Grail. Twisting it around, the edges catch the light, sparkling like little stars embedded in the glass surface. To me, the light looks like hope.

I look up at Walter, holding a bottle of his own, and smile at him, elated. The hopelessness and despair that has settled around us suddenly lifts, and we stand up together, still holding our Holy Grails.

And then he laughs. It's not because something is funny or because I've done something stupid. It's an amazed kind of sound, a high kind of sound, contagious. I laugh, too, and it sounds just as wondering. I'm aware right now that we'd probably look like complete idiots to anyone watching, but I don't care.

Taking Walter's hand in mine, we race off into the night together. Drunk from our knowledge. Drunk off of American love.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I really hope you liked this one. I know there wasn't any action in it, but there will be soon, I promise ;) Anyway, much love, please review!


	39. Thirty Nine

NOTE: Okay, first of all, I'd just like to thank all of my wonderful reviewers; you all make my day, and I always look forward to hearing from you guys! I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving (if you celebrated), and if not I hope you all had a great not-Thanksgiving :) For this chapter you will need "Airplanes" by Local Natives for Vinny's part, and then "Invisible" by Skylar Grey (awesome song!) for the party scene. Please read on!

39. Just Like Me

_**Vinny**_

When I peel open my blood-caked eyes, I'm half-hoping for different scenery. But nope. Still sitting tied up in this chair, in an empty warehouse somewhere. It's gotten darker outside, but that's probably only because of the rain.

They're waiting for me, naturally. Can't torture someone very well while they're unconscious.

He smiles at me, still wearing that damn suit. The others smile, too, but they're not as menacing.

They're not holding the knife.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," the bastard with the knife encourages me. His tone is mocking. I curl my lips into a snarl, but he seems to think this is funny. Guess it wasn't as menacing as it had felt on my face.

"Glad to see you could join us again. We were getting a little impatient," the man continues. He twists the knife in his fingers like some sort of miniature baton. It flashes in the dim lighting, foreboding. There is still blood on it, dried now.

"Well get on with it then," I snap, but it comes out as more of a rasp. I can't clutch at my throat, but I want to; I'm sure they've damaged something.

"Oh, no, no, no, we can't do that. We still have a little business to take care of first. _Then _we can play," he says and flashes a devious grin at me. His teeth gleam; they remind me of the knife blade.

My stomach rolls in apprehension but I try to hide it. I glare at him from under my blood-soaked lashes. "Not really fun playing when I don't have free hands," I respond. "Too chickenshit to fight fair, huh?"

He doesn't seemed fased by my antagonism. Knows he has the upper hand. Bastard. "It's a little like poker, huh? House always wins," he says, still grinning. He motions to himself, so I guess he means the house to be him.

Arrogant government prick.

"Ah, but unfortunately it's also a bit like Russian Roulette," he says, and then leans in close. His grin disappears, and his expression is now serious and threatening. "It doesn't matter how many times I pull the trigger; eventually you're going to die."

He stares at me a moment longer, and then flashes that grin again. "But I'm getting ahead of myself." He pulls away and starts twirling the knife again, circling me now. I try to hold completely still, resisting the urge to twist and flail in this damn chair. I hate not being able to see my enemy.

"Now. Vincent-"

"Vinny," I snap, interrupting him.

He stops, seeming mildly surprised. "Excuse me?"

"When you're killing me you respect my goddamn name. It's Vinny," I snarl.

He titters, amused. "Oh, pardon me, my mistake. _Vinny. _You, unfortunately, are the leader of a gang. Truthers, you call yourselves, though, sadly, your truth is deluded." I bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him.

"You take it upon yourselves to 'spread the word', as you call it, by defacing public property and assaulting government officials. That doesn't seem very patriotic to _me._" He looks at me, raising his eyebrows in mock disbelief. Then he shrugs. "Ah, but what do I know?"

"You already know _this," _I retort, suddenly impatient. I'm sick of him walking around, flaunting his fucking knife. "Why don't you just get on with it?"

"Because that wouldn't be very fun, now, would it?" His voice is sharper, remaining pleasant but just barely. Underneath I can hear the hiss of menace.

Then, quite suddenly, I feel an explosion of pain in my right side. Unable to help myself, I cry out, mostly from shock. But it hurts like a bitch, too, I'm not gonna lie. He leaves the knife in for a few seconds and then twists it. I clench my jaw together and try to keep myself from screaming again.

"Where is Walter Kovacs?" he demands.

The name is unfamiliar. It draws me up short. If I didn't have my eyes shut tight in pain I would have given him my very best "what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about?" look. "I don't know who you're talking about," I manage through clenched teeth. He twists the knife again and I let out a strange, gutteral noise from all the way in the bottom of my throat.

"He's part of your conspiracy and we need to know where he is," he says, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back so that he can whisper in my ear. "I can't promise to let you live. But I _can _promise to make the pain go away. Now where is Walter Kovacs?"

I twist my head and roll my eyes up to meet his. "I...don't...know," I pant, separating each word distinctly, angrily.

The suit hesitates, considering my words, and then he quickly pulls out the knife. I wince, hissing in through my teeth. "Alright, then, we'll try this a different way," he murmurs, then presses the blade against the skin connecting my ear to my head.

"Where is the vigilante Rorschach?"

Uh oh. Walter Kovacs I don't know. Rorschach I do. He's that guy Daniel's partner. He's the one who's been causing problems for Veidt and his government pals. It must show on my face, too, because the suit narrows his eyes.

"Do you know where he is?" he presses.

I stare back at him, pressing my lips into a thin line. My posture is resolute; that knife will not weaken my resolve. He seems to know this. He purses his lips, too, but in disatisfaction. "Guess we're going to have to do this the hard way," he says and then slices down.

My scream is instantanious; I wish I could hold it back but the pain- and the thought of what's just happened- is too much. He's just sliced my ear, cut it clean off, Mr. Blonde style. And goddamn it hurts.

"Where is Rorschach?" he demands, grabbing me by my hair and pulling my head back.

Fighting through the pain, I clench my jaw and glare at him. Then, hocking it back, I spit in his face.

He doesn't even flinch. His eyes grow cold, losing the easy familiarity, the facade he'd been keeping. "I can see this isn't going anywhere," he states bluntly. Wiping his face, he turns to the other suits. "Shoot him. We've got nothing here." Then he walks away, without sparing me a last glance.

I snarl at the suit who steps up next, pulling out his handgun. Bastards can't even untie me, give me a fair shot. Guess I didn't expect much else, though. They're all cowards.

That's why I refuse to close my eyes. Even when he takes aim and pulls the trigger.

_**Rylie**_

"So, Rylie. You wanna come to a party with me?"

The question, unexpected, brings me up short. I look up from where I've been sitting with Walter on the single step leading to the garage door, still breathing heavily from our work-out. I pause in unwrapping the gauze from my knuckles and look up at him.

"Are you serious?"

He snorts one short laugh. "Of course I'm serious. Why would I lie?"

"Well, what kind of party?" I ask, still skeptical. I can feel Walter, tense and still at my side.

"It's a...sort of end of the summer party," he replies.

I furrow my brows, confused. "Eddie, the summer's only halfway over. It's not the end yet," I point out slowly.

"For football players it is," he replies.

I grimace. "Right." I'd forgotten. We'd all been so busy since summer had started that I'd completely forgotten all our other schedules.

He laughs at my expression and then gives me an expectant, hopeful look. "So. You wanna come?" he offers again.

I'm very tempted to say no. It's my first instinct. I don't fit in with the football jocks and the populars that come with them. But Eddie's giving me that damn irresistable puppy-dog face that he _knows _I can't say no to. "Um...I guess," I finally answer.

He breaks into a huge, sunny grin, and I smile back just slightly, warmed by it. "Great. It's tomorrow at six," he says.

I blink, surprised. "Why so early?" Usually parties like this start much later.

"Well, because we want to pull off the innocent facade until Mark's parents leave. They only stay for the first hour and then go out on a date," he replies, rolling his eyes.

"Oh. Right. Well...should I wear something special or...?"

He just laughs in that "silly Rylie" way he has, and I take that as a no. Eddie leaves then, off to patrol with Jimmy and Damien, and I turn to Walter. "Great. So now I'm going to a party," I mutter.

He avoids my gaze. "Then don't go," he mumbles.

I can't help chuckling at his sullen tone. "Don't worry. I'll be back in time to patrol with you," I assure him.

"You'd better be," he growls sternly. "Can't squander your time at frivolous parties."

I laugh again and pat him once on the shoulder. "Come on, Serious Sally, let's go kick some criminal ass."

"...Sally?"

_~r.~_

The music is pounding by the time we get there, and so is my heart. Eddie comes around to my side of the car and opens the door for me. "Ready?" he asks, grinning and extending his hand.

I swallow my shaky sigh and smile at him, nodding. "Yeah," I reply, take his hand and let him pull me out of the car. _It's just a bunch of jocks. No big deal. You go out every night and beat the shit out of scumbags. This shouldn't scare you, _I try to tell myself.

But when I walk through the door, arm-in-arm with Eddie, I am not convinced. There are so many people, people I only know because they're all the most popular kids in school and e_veryone _knows of them. High school celebrities.

"Oh, Jesus," I mutter under my breath.

"So, Rylie. You wanna dance?" Eddie murmurs in my ear.

"Uh...I don't really...know," I answer uncertainly, biting my lip.

Eddie chuckles and presses his forehead to mine. "Don't be so self-conscious," he murmurs to me. Then he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles at me in a a soft, almost tender way. "You look beautiful, babe."

I blush and duck my head. "Thanks, Eddie," I say quietly.

"Eddie!" a rowdy voice calls from behind. Eddie turns and I look up to see some of his football friends in the kitchen, motioning to him.

Eddie looks back at me, eyebrow raised. "You wanna come?" he inquires.

I shake my head quickly. "No, no, but you go."

"Are you sure? Cuz I can stay-"

"No, go. Have fun." Even as I say it, I cringe internally at the thought of being without my chauffeur.

Eddie remains doubtful, but his friends call him again so, with an encouraging smile, he reaches down to squeeze my hand once and then heads over to them. And I'm alone in a sea of people I don't belong with.

Well, I can't just stand here like a dumbstruck idiot. Might as well mingle.

At first, everything goes smoothly and I slowly begin to think that maybe I can get through this unscathed. But then...

"Um. Rylie?" I turn, both curious and apprehensive. A very skinny blonde girl that I recognize as one of the cheerleaders- Mackenzie- is standing behind me, looking very confused and disgruntled. "That's your name, right?" she continues.

"Yeah," I reply quietly.

"Why are you here?" she asks. She smiles at me, but it's not really a smile. It's more of a sneer.

"Uh, I came with Eddie," I tell her.

"Oh, that's right! Eddie's your friend, I forgot. It's just so weird, you know? You two are just so different. I wouldn't think to put you two together."

"Yeah..." I mutter, burning with resentment. I know exactly what she's trying to say- you don't belong with him, he belongs with _us. _She's _messing _with me. So I decide to mess right back. "But, you know, we've been best friends since we were infants. Nothing comes between us," I tell her.

Her lips purse and her eyes tighten just the tiniest bit. "Oh. How nice," she says. "It was nice of him to invite you. You don't really hang out with anybody else here, do you?"

I clench my fists at my side. "No," I speak through my teeth.

"I thought so," she says and gives me another smile. "Well, I've got to go. It was nice meeting you." And then she turns and twitches away.

Standing there, in the middle of the popular crowd, still burning with anger and embarrassment, I try to fight the tears that prick my eyes. I want to go to Eddie, but I can't. He's in the kitchen with his popular friends and I don't want to be around them.

Then, like a little _bing!_ in my head, Walter pops to the forefront of my thoughts. Suddenly all I want to do is be with him. I don't care if he's mad at me for shirking my responsibilities to come to this party. I need him now.

Quietly, discreetly, I slip out the front door. It's only an hour's walk back to my house. I walk it all the time anyway to and from patrol. It's still light outside- the sun hasn't had a chance to sink too low in the western horizon- but up above, gray clouds have gathered, and I can smell rain in the air. Sighing, I cross my arms over my chest and, wishing I had my ipod with me, head home.

It's started to rain by the time I reach the forests in front of my house. I figure I'll just go home, grab my costume, and head out to the streets to look for Rorschach. It's a little early, but I figure since he won't be training with any of us before he'll just head out. So I'm surprised when I see him, off in the distance near the lane. Curious, I head over to him.

He's facing away from me, hands behind his back, staring through the rain at the corn field in the east, but he knows I'm there. "Hello, Cadence," he greets me quietly, not turning to look at me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, coming around to his side so I can see his face. There's no emotion to it, but the rain rolls down his cheeks like tears.

"I live here, don't I?" he asks, and the corner of his mouth pulls up wryly.

"Well, yeah, but I meant why aren't you out on patrol?"

He shrugs. "I was waiting for you," he says simply.

I blink. "But...I didn't tell you when I was coming back. I could've come back at midnight," I protest.

But he turns then and smiles at me. Somehow his ice blue eyes manage to look soft. "But I knew you wouldn't. I know you, Cadence," he says. And the words make me feel so warm inside that I can't help smiling back at him.

Then his smile fades and twists in a frown. "But I figured Eddie would drive you home," he says, and there is a hint of a threat in his voice.

I quickly rush to my friend's defense. "Well, I didn't tell him I was leaving. I think I should have, though; he's probably worrying about me..." I trail off, biting my lip at my irresponsibility. I _should _have told Eddie, but...at the time I just couldn't have faced any other popular people. My lower lip trembles a little, and I crouch down, pretending to tie my shoe to hide the tears that threaten to fall.

But Walter kneels down, too, and watches me for a moment. "Cadence." His voice is soft, concerned.

"Hmm?" I don't look up.

After a moment's hesitation, Walter reaches out and touches my chin. It's the lightest of contacts, almost as though he's not touching me at all. But I know what he wants and I lift my face up to look at him. He quickly pulls his hand away but stares into my eyes.

"What happened?" he asks.

I watch him for a moment longer and then I laugh- one harsh, throaty bark. "Nothing _happened. _Except some bitch trying to stake her claim on my best friend, but that's really...nothing I haven't seen before..." I trail off when it seems the tears in my eyes are in danger of overflowing again.

"Hurm," Walter growls thoughtfully, still appraising me. "If it's nothing you haven't seen before, why did it bother you so much?"

I think about that for a moment and then I sigh. "I guess it just kinda hit me then, you know? I was in the middle of all of these people, so many people it was hard to walk without touching at least four people at the same time. Yet I was completely and utterly alone," I explain. Then I sigh again and give him a half-hearted smile. "Guess I'm still kind of sensitive, huh?"

He doesn't say anything, just keeps his eyes on mine. And I realize then what a pair we are- both of us broken, both of us sensitive in our own ways. And both of us trying to act tough, to act strong. But that's all it is- an act. _Is that all we ever do, walk around with masks on all day? _I wonder to myself dryly.

I look at Walter then and really see him. He's always been there for me in the short time we've known each other, and he feels like protection, he feels like home. Someone who helps me keep on track. He's exactly right for me- quiet, intelligent, and thoughtful, who listens to my thoughts and ideas, who makes me feel like an individual instead of a child. Where everyone else makes me feel invisible, he makes me feel like I actually exist. That in some small world- _our _world, I think- I'm _important. _

I smile at him then in wonder. _I don't have to wear my mask around him, _I think to myself quietly. A single tear, hot in contrast to the rain, rolls down my cheek. Slowly, gently, I reach out to him and place my hands on both sides of his face, cradling it. I feel him stiffen but he doesn't pull away. His eyes continue to stare into mine.

"We're not so different, you and I," I finally say to him and smile.

He snorts. "Yeah, we both like to dress up in costumes and pretend we're superheroes at three in the morning," he mutters.

I laugh. "We're are a pretty strange pair, aren't we?"

He nods. "Yeah," he agrees and then, slowly, one side of his mouth pulls up in a tentative smile.

And then, maskless and unafraid, I keep the smile on my face as I pull Walter closer and rest my forehead against his, linking my fingers behind his neck.

_Come tell me all, my darling,_

_When the land is wet with rain_

_When the tears blind the eyes_

_Of the curious skies_

_And only I will know!_

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I hope I didn't make that last scene too sappy :P It's kind of been haunting my muse so it had to be done. Anyway, no, there wasn't much to this chapter BUT something exciting is going to happen in the next one so please keep on the look out for it! Oh- and I don't own that poem. Anyway- go review, cuz I love you! lol :D


	40. Forty

NOTE: Okay. This is a really important chapter, and it's one of the most beautiful moments I've imagined in my head so far for this entire trilogy. Hopefully it's not too...sci-fi-ish...for you. First you will need "Faint" by Linkin Park for the fight scene. And then you will need **"The Kiss" by Howard Shore for the lightning scene! **I write that in bold because this is the only song that I will ever _insist _you listen to. Not only does it sum up the scene perfectly, but it pretty much sums up Rylie and Walter's relationship, too- and it's only an instrumental! _Please _listen to it, it's wonderful! Okay, enough arrogant demands (forgive me; I try not to act bratty :P) Please read on :)

40. Directly Into Me

_**Dan**_

I'm so sick of the rain. It's been raining nonstop for four days now. Everything is soaked, including me; standing here now, I feel as though, rain-washed as I am, I could just fade into the background of the alley.

It startles me when the walkie-talkie attached to my belt crackles to life. We've been watching these daycares and children's hospitals for days, and none of us have felt the need to contact each other on the job. My heart starts pounding in my chest. Something's happened.

The walkie-talkie flashes to my mouth. "What is it?" I demand immediately.

"Dan." It's Trey. Instantly I'm on red alert; he sounds withdrawn, numb. "We found them."

My stomach drops, almost like I'm on a rollar coaster and we've just gone down the first hill. I feel sick. I don't have to ask who the "them" are; there are only two people we've been searching for specifically.

"Where?" I ask.

"The old sweatshop warehouse on 36th."

I know where that is. "I'm on my way."

But just as I'm stepping out of the alley, I hear Laurie shout behind me. "Nite Owl!" she calls and I whip around, the rain slicing off me in a wide arc.

"Satin Shadow," I growl in greeting. Her eyes are wide behind her black mask.

"The agency's come! They're at the daycare!" she tells me quickly.

I stop, my eyes growing wide with horror. "No," I breathe.

She stares at me desperately. "What do we do?" she asks, reaching out to me as if wishing I could hand her the solution. But it's not that simple.

I narrow my eyes. "They've come conspicuously? They went right to the front desk?" I inquire. She nods. My heart sinks. "Then there's nothing we _can _do," I say. My voice is very tired.

Laurie's mouth gapes open. "Are you _kidding _me? Please tell me you are joking!"

I meet her horrified stare evenly. "You _know _there's nothing we can do when they go straight to the parents with a perfect alibi. All we can do now is hope the parents see sense."

"But-"

"Shadow, listen to me. We were counting on them stealing the children; we laid our bets on that. But we lost. Now all we can do is wait and see how the rest of this game rides," I tell her grimly. "Besides...we've got other things to do now."

"Like what?" Laurie demands, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at me mutinously.

I am not deterred. "They've found them," I tell her.

Her angry position sinks into one of despair. "Oh no..." she breathes and I can see, just behind the darkness of her mask, the tears welling in her eyes. "What happened...?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. That's why we have to go."

She nods. "Okay. I'm coming with you."

I nod back and we start running. The rain seems colder now, heavier.

_**Rylie**_

I wait impatiently in the alley next to Rorschach, fidgeting in frustration. In the street in front of us, illuminated by the orange glow of the street lamps, cops and truthers fight in a battlefield of rain and pavement.

Rorschach presses his hand firmly to my shoulder, holding me back when he sees me lean forward eagerly. "Not yet," he growls. I throw him a desperate, infuriated look but he just shakes his head. I turn back to the scene in front of me and start watching again.

It's when the cops start to overpower the truthers that I turn to Rorschach, even more urgent then before. Even behind the mask, I can feel his gaze meet mine. He nods. "Now," he hisses and, turning back to the street in unison, we lunge into action.

I slam immediately into the nearest cop, pushing him down below me. We go skidding through the rain and slam into the gutter on the other side of the street. He tries to pull his taser on me, but I slam my elbow down on the top of his wrist and then, in the same movement, ram my knuckles into his temple. His head slams down onto the sidewalk from the impact and cracks; I see his eyes swirl dizzily in their sockets.

Leaving him bleeding in the gutter, I turn back to the battle, leap to my feet, and join Rorschach by his side. We stay in the center of the thickest fighting, keeping close to each other. Our movements compensate each other's; when he steps left, I step to the right to cover him, and vice versa. _The perfect team, _I think in grim satisfaction.

Ducking to avoid a punch to the face, I feel Rorschach wheel around at the same time and meet the cop's fist with his own. Their knuckles crack loudly, but only the cop gasps in pain. "Patriot!" Rorschach barks, but I'm already moving. Keeping my palms to the pavement, I lift the rest of my body up for one short moment and swing low to the ground in a tight circle. My legs slam into the cop's legs and knock them out from under him. Rorschach leaps out of the way, forward into another cop; he grabs him by his blue vest, snarling from deep in his chest.

But I can't watch for long. Collapsing to the ground, I manage to roll out of the way of a cop's crushing boots. When I stand, the same cop comes toward me, swinging. I let him try to catch me with his fists for a while and I dance around him- ducking, swinging my fists, throwing his out of the way. The dance accelerates and I can tell he's becoming flustered by my speed. I can't help grinning, glad of all the training Rorschach's been giving me.

Finally, as I'm swinging under his arm and around his side, I reach down and pull his gun from it's holster. Then, twirling away from him, I turn, aim the gun, and fire. The bullet slices cleanly through the back of his head; blood sprays out the front of his forehead in a fine red mist, and I grimace.

Suddenly, something slams sharply and painfully into the back of my neck. Cringing in pain, I fall instantly to the ground. For a moment, my sight disappears in a flash of heat and agony. Water splashes up from below me when I hit the ground, and I almost sigh in relief at the coolness caressing my skin. For a moment, all I want to do in that moment is nuzzle my face into the rain-drenched pavement.

Then I feel the hands on my shoulders, gripping tight, trying to pull me to my feet. Even though my vision hasn't completely returned, I flip over onto my back instinctively and try to fight off my attacker.

But my flailing hands find no purchase, and all of a sudden it doesn't matter. Because after a brief moment of struggling to fight, big, powerful hands grip my throat and squeeze. My eyes fly wide with panic and I let out a pitiful squeak of shock. The man lifts me up off the ground, squeezing tighter, tighter...

My sight, which has started to come back, starts to fizzle out again, and all my mind can scream is: _I can't breathe! I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE! _

Panic fills me, but it's not long-lived. My consciousness starts slipping with my vision. My struggles grow more and more feeble; my fingers, which have been trying to pry the strong hands from my throat, fall limp.

And then, in the darkness, I feel a sudden and powerful burst of rage- flames in my chest that beat at the unconsciousness. It's the only thing that keeps me from slipping away completely.

It's not my own rage. Dimly I recognize Rorschach in my emotions.

Then I'm aware of a brief sensation of falling, followed by jarring but painless impact. It should hurt, but I'm tingling with numbness and so it doesn't. Gasping for air, my hungry lungs clutch at it. Rain falls onto my face, onto my lips, and slowly soothes away the numbness.

When my vision finally clears, I blink up weakily to see Rorschach crouched over me. There is no movement behind him except the anxious truthers, who look at my face uncertainly as though they doubt I'm alive. The fight is over, I realize with belated surprise.

I am sort of surprised by the feel of wet leather against my skin as Rorschach grips my face gently but firmly in his hands. "Patriot," he hisses, and the urgency in his tone surprises me. I suppose it shouldn't, though; he's always been overprotective.

"Rorschach," I croak and grimace at the weakness in my voice. I feel an instantaneous, thick wave of relief in my chest and recognize that it's not mine. I blink at Rorschach and the world spins a little on its axis. Then it disappears.

When the world comes back to me again, I'm in an alley and it's still raining. I blink, feeling rain drip down from my eyelashes, and wonder how much time has passed and...

Someone's arms are around me.

Looking up, I see the arc of Rorschach's jaw, clenched tight with stress. Or rather, _Walter's _jaw. _His mask is off! _I realize in horror. His eyes are uplifted, staring at the pouring sky in an almost challenging way.

"Walter!" I hiss.

He looks at me immediately, relief softening his eyes. I wait to feel his relief in me but I don't. Hmm...I purse my lips, considering this for a brief second. I only feel his moods when he's Rorschach...

"Cadence," he breathes, closing his eyes for a moment. "You're awake."

"Of course I am," I reply.

Instantly his eyes flash open and his jaw clenches again. The relief is gone, the softness in his eyes replaced by a hard, glinting edge of fury. "You could have been killed so easily," he snaps.

I glare at him. "But I wasn't," I retort, sitting up. He retracts his arms from me quickly, as though I've electrocuted him. Instantly, I feel shame at my defensiveness. He's just saved my life. _Again. _How can I act so ungrateful?

Sighing, I kneel next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. "Thank you," I murmur, closing my eyes.

He huffs an impatient sigh. "Let's not make this a habit, alright?" he growls gruffly, but I feel him lay his head on mine briefly. I can't help smiling just a little; touch has become so much easier for him. Not _easy. _Just easi_er._

Then, sighing, he pulls away and stands, offering his hand. I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. There's still some dizziness, so I wobble a little. His eyebrows come together and his expression puckers into one of something akin to anguish.

I watch him curiously. "I'm just a little dizzy. That's all. And it certainly doesn't help that I'm clumsy," I try to joke. But his expression remains pained, almost desperate. I draw back a little, suddenly a little nervous. "What?"

He hesitates, watching me carefully, as though weighing his words. Finally he sighs. "Cadence, I want you to stop this," he says.

I blink. "Stop what?"

His eyes narrow, growing hard. "This job. It's killing you," he growls.

I gape at him, completely blindsided. It's been a long time since he's even _suggested _I shouldn't be a vigilante. "_What?" _I hiss, shocked. I step away from him, my body curling instinctively to protect myself from the hurt and sense of betrayal.

The icy edge leaves his eyes and his expression becomes sad, pleading. Guilty, almost. He holds his arms out to me, asking me to listen. "You...you can't do this, Cadence," he says. Then his voice grows softer. "You're like a porcelain doll. You could get broken."

I stare at him in outrage. "Then I will have to break!" I exclaim, shocked that he would even come to this conclusion. Then I step forward, glaring, aggressive, and shove my finger into his chest. "Walter, I'm not giving this up. I can't; I've come too far. And I don't care what you say."

"Cadence, listen to me-"

"Patriot," I interrupt through gritted teeth. "My name is Patriot and I'm a vigilante."

Walter's eyes become brittle shards of ice. "Not anymore. I won't allow it," he snarls.

"You can't stop me!" I scream, outraged beyond belief. "What, suddenly I'm not good enough anymore? Is that it?"

"No."

"Then what? _What?" _

Then suddenly, I'm not the only one screaming. _"Cadence, I can't lose you!" _he shouts fiercely, angrily. But there is an edge of fear to his voice, of panic, that I can just barely detect.

We stand there for a long time in the rain, staring each other down. His eyes are filled with an exhausted kind of despair. Mine are wide, frozen between shock and anger.

Finally I thaw and step away from him. "I'm going home," I mutter quietly. Then, turning without waiting for a response, I start heading south, not sure if I care whether he's following me or not.

_~r.~_

The next night, I'm practicing with the band in the garage. I haven't seen of much of Walter all day, and when I have we haven't spoken. It's irritating, and I'm not totally sure I'm ready to forgive him, but I still want to talk to him. At least have a screaming match so we can get all of this out in the open. I hate fighting in silence.

"Hey, we should probably head out to patrol," Eddie finally says, setting his guitar down.

"Uh...yeah," I agree, but uncertainly.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Something wrong?" he inquires. Then his expression becomes wry. "Fighting with Walter again?" he drawls.

I frown. He shouldn't sound so satisfied by that. "Yes. But it's none of your business," I growl.

"It is if he's hurting you," Eddie argues, his eyes becoming soft.

I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away. "He's not, he's just irritating the hell out of me," I lie.

Eddie chuckles and wraps his arms around me. "He does that to everyone. I thought you were immune to it, though."

Sighing, I step away, not wanting to talk about this anymore. "Guess not. But this won't last forever." _I hope. _"You guys should go. You're burning moonlight."

There is no moon that night, though. I'm standing a little past the garage, looking up at the darkness above me, and the way the trees wave in the cool breeze. Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien have left on patrol, and I'm just waiting for Walter...wherever he is.

It'll probably rain again. The air is cooler but damp, heavy. I shiver as I stand there, suddenly overcome by a brief but distinct feel of electricity passing across my skin. Looking down, I realize that the hair is standing up on my arms. I furrow my brows and look up at the sky again with new eyes. _There's a storm coming, _I realize.

I should probably get inside- storms here get pretty nasty. But I can't stop walking forward till I reach the northern treeline. It's as though the subtle feel of electricity has wrapped itself around me like a rope and is tugging me forward.

And then I just happen to glance to the east.

He's standing there, at the beginning of the lane. He's in full costume except for his mask, which is clutched tightly in his right hand. He is glaring up at the sky, the same challenge in his eyes as when I'd woken up in his arms the night before.

I cock my head to the side, curious. What's he doing out here? I've sensed but never mentioned before his anxiety in storms. He doesn't like them, for reasons I don't even think he's figured out yet. He'll face them on patrol, but I've never seen him intentionally spend time in one.

I start to jog over to him, and the rain begins to fall then. At first it's just a few patters, a few glancing blows, but by the time I've run the distance it's pouring and I'm drenched.

I stop a few yards from him, disarmed by his expression. From far away, I could tell that he was glaring. But now, up close, his expression is...alarming. Challenging and guilt-ridden and angry and disgusted. My heart thuds in my chest.

"Walter?" I call hesitantly.

He turns to me slowly, and his red-rimmed eyes are burning, filled with pain and guilt. I have never seen him like this before, ever. So distraught, so...broken.

"Go away, Cadence," he rasps and then turns his attention back to the sky.

I take a step forward, reaching out to him. "Walter..."

He doesn't look at me, but he closes his eyes and huffs a deep, impatient breath. "_Leave_, Cadence," he orders, making the first word hard, like steel.

"No," I reply quietly, taking a few more steps toward him.

He whips around, and his eyes are blazing. "_Leave!" _he snaps, and I hear Rorschach snarling deep from within his chest, fighting to break free.

But I don't care. Whatever he's doing out here, for whatever reason, my heart is screaming at me that it's not good. He needs to leave. Now.

_**Rorschach**_

"No," Cadence repeats and I feel my chest ache with fury. _She _is the reason that I came out here, to the ends of the earth and skies and hopefully my life, in the middle of the storm, and she won't leave.

Even more infuriatingly, I can't stop the tears that stream, hot and fast, down my face. I glare at her, almost exploding with rage, but I swallow it down, hoping that if I can convey the perfect balance of calm and urgency she will know that I need to be alone.

"Cadence. Go. Now," I tell her, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

But Cadence, shaking her head, covers the distance between us and grabs my arm, intent on tugging me away.

_**Rylie**_

"Walter, c'mon, we have to get inside," I argue, pulling at his arm to try and get him to move.

He shrugs out of my grip and glares at me. "Leave me, Cadence. I don't want you here," he growls.

I stand there, still reaching for him, and glare right back. "I don't care, Walter," I reply.

He quivers with fury then and screams, "_Get the hell out of here, Cadence!" _

Narrowing my eyes, I grab his arm again and tell him, "No."

That's when I hear the rumble of thunder in the dark, angry clouds above us. Once again the hair stands up on my arms, but this time I know exactly the reason. With a small gasp, my eyes flash up to the skies.

_**Rorschach**_

Cadence feels it at the same time I hear the voice in my head, familiar and soothing in that moment. _Walter, be prepared. You can fight this but you must remain completely focused. _

There is a flash in the sky.

Time slows down.

It seems as though my mind has expanded, allowing room for memories and thoughts and still endless room to focus. I remember a night in New York, just having arrived, and suits all over the place. I remember the feel of the taser, of electricity as it shocked me again and again, how it seemed to slide through my body.

How I'd fought it.

I remember another night in New York, walking down a dark street after a fight. Manhattan is telling me that he has left his trace in me. That I'm different from other humans because of this.

He is telling me that I am more in tune with electricity. He is telling me that's how I'd fought the effects of the tasers.

All of this passes within fractions of a millisecond. My eyes flash up to the skies. The lightning bears down on me and I lift my hand up to meet it.

I hear a small gasp from behind me. Remember Cadence's hand on my arm. But it's too late. There's no time to move now.

The lightning hits with frightening strength and time slows even more. I am spinning and the only thing I can see is lightning and darkness. There is nothing else.

Well, there's pain. Unimaginable pain.

And Manhattan shouting. _Fight, Walter, you must fight!_

But how can I fight when it feels like fire is tearing my body apart?

_You must focus. You know how to do this. Just focus._

But I can't focus on anything but the pain.

And then suddenly, like another strike of lightning, my head is filled with images and emotions that aren't mine. I am standing behind someone, my hand stretched out and clutching their arm in a vise grip, my brain filled with terror. With a jolt I realize that _I _am the person in front of me, and so that means this must be Cadence.

_Cadence._

And there it is. The fight I've been looking for. I am suddenly able to focus now, because I need to protect _her. _My life means little to me. But Cadence...Cadence can't die. I won't allow it.

Suddenly, though I am still enwrapped in lightning and darkness, suddenly Cadence is there with me. And her thoughts. I can hear her thoughts. She is terrified, but, like me, her life means little to her. She only cares that _I _am safe.

_It's okay, _I try to assure her. _Just hold on. It'll be over soon. _

_Walter, _she whimpers, and the sound is so heartbreaking that it almost brings tears to my eyes.

_It's okay._

The world swirls faster. I gasp aloud, alarmed by the sudden intensity filling me. _Memories_, memories that aren't mine, filling me.

I am Cadence, and I've just run into someone who feels like a brick wall.

I am Cadence, and someone's gravelly voice is asking me to consider people who don't have computers.

I am Cadence, and someone familiar is waiting for me outside of the school.

I am Cadence, and I am standing in an alley, watching my childhood hero kill a criminal. It's strange, but my feelings are not my own...

I am asking him to teach me how to fight.

I am running with him through the snow.

I am introducing him to my friends.

I am smiling with him.

I am laughing with him.

I am with him.

I am him.

And then, quite suddenly and jarringly, it's over. The sudden flood of emotion and memory stops, as well as the fierce fire in my veins. Weakly, I turn and Cadence is waiting for me. I realize numbly that there are tears on my face. But there are tears on her face, too. Our expressions mirror each others- shock, and a bittersweet kind of sadness, all overshadowed by the numbing exhaustion.

I grip her arms and she grips mine as we sink to our knees. She is the only thing in the world now. I keep my eyes on her face as the world spins, slower now, but dizzingly.

And then the spinning world spins out of sight.

_**Jon**_

They have Touched and it was beautiful.

But their future becomes veiled in shadows.

I sigh, stepping out of Walter's mind and returning to my present.

At least when they step into the darkness, they will step together.

Nothing can separate them now. Not time, nor space.

Not even death.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Rest assured, all will be explained in good time. Now go have a nice day and try not to get struck by lightning! :)


	41. Forty One

NOTE: Alright, just want to send out a huge THANK YOU! to my reviewers/readers! You guys are awesome :D Okay, now, we have some explanation for the events that happened in the last chapter. Hope it doesn't sound to out there. ;)

41. Fly Me to Mars

_**Rylie**_

_"I often dream strange penetrating dreams_

_Of one whom I adore and who loves me,_

_Whose image changes yet unchanging seems..."_

I am standing on a rooftop in New York. The air is cool and the wind swirls around me like an unforgiving dancer. The torn, ragged clothes encasing me flutter wildly in the breeze, dancing with it. My barefeet take me forward the last few steps to the edge.

Looking down, I gaze coldly at the city skyline. Curl my lip at the decay of millions.

And then he's beside me, whispering in my ear. "What do you see?" he asks.

Turning, I look into the gilt-framed mirror he holds and see myself. But it's not _me. _This girl in the mirror is a trembling, cowardly mouse, without even a whisper of strength. I glare at her coldly.

And then he's no longer behind the mirror. He is standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders, whispering in my ear. "What do you see?" he repeats.

I don't look away from the reflection in the mirror, so I see it change. With him there, the pathetic mouse stops trembling and straightens up. Her eyes grow hard and her muscles roll under the skin, becoming strong and prepared. She is ready, she is resolute. She will not falter.

"Destruction," I answer.

And then, slowly, groggily, I pull myself out of the dream, practically claw my way out of sleep. Lifting my head from the sweat-soaked pillow, I blink and take in my surroudnings warily. I am in my room, alone.

This isn't the first time I've woken up. When I'd awakened the first time, my parents had been at my bedside with Eddie. They'd all looked worried but I hadn't been able to make out what they were saying. I'd only stayed awake for a few seconds and then gone back under.

The mirror dream also isn't the first dream I've had, but it is the first _different _dream.

For the entire duration of my sleep, almost as if on an endless loop, I've been dreaming about Dr. Manhattan. We're on Mars together, me and him, and he's talking to me about dancing. It always cuts off at the same place, too, and then starts all over again. There's always an urgency about it, as though in the dream he wants me to wake up and really visit him. Which is stupid. Just because he has some strange connection to Walter, it doesn't mean he wants anything to do with _me. _

But...

The dreams. They're so _strong, _so _potent. _Almost as though someone is...is _sending _them to me. Messages.

I sigh. But that's probably just my overactive and currently flustered imagination running wild.

"Cadence," a voice croaks from the doorway. I look up sharply, suddenly alert, because Walter is leaning against my doorframe. His eyes are only half-open, and he is sagging visibly against the frame, as though he can't support himself.

My heart pounds fiercely in my chest. "Walter," I gasp, and my voice cracks embarrassingly. I hold my arms out to him and he limps over to me, collapsing on my bed and not even seeming to care at our proximity. I close my arms around him and pull him close, and he relaxes, letting his head rest on my chest. _He _must _be exhausted, _I think in amazement. Otherwise, I know, Rorschach would never have allowed this.

"How are you?" I croak and try to clear my throat. But I wince; it hurts, like shards of glass caught in my throat.

"Fine," he rasps, but there is pain in his voice.

I glare at the top of his head. "Walter, you just got struck by lightning," I reprimand.

I can almost see him roll his eyes. "So did you, Cadence," he reminds me quietly.

"Yeah, but you took the brunt of the impact..." I trail off in horror, my eyes growing wide with the memories. First, the sheer terror, and then, overlaying it, thoughts and emotions that weren't mine...

"I'm fine," he mutters again, clearly ruffled, and I don't have to wonder if he's thinking the same as I am. I know he is.

I am quiet for a moment. I don't know how to bring it up, but I need to. Hesitantly, I step into it. "Do you want to...talk about it...?"

"No." His answer is abrupt and sharp, the point of a knife. It cuts deep into my chest and wounds me. I recoil slightly, stung.

"But...I mean, it was...a pretty strange thing that happened. Don't you-"

"I said no, Cadence," he growls, finally turning to glare at me.

"Okay," I say in a meek, quiet voice. He sighs and looks away, no longer relaxed. After a long moment of silence, I push him away, gently but firmly. "You should probably go. They might check in on us again," I tell him, subdued.

He nods once and stands, but wobbles slightly. I reach out in case he needs help. "I'm fine, Cadence," he snaps and I retract my arms as though he's tased me. He doesn't look at me once as he limps across the hall to his room, and I try to shake off the hurt.

Laying back in my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, feeling numb. Not because of what's happened but because of his reaction. Whatever's happened...it can't be _bad, _can it? Certainly it was strange. Definately nothing either of us has ever seen. But _bad? _We both _survived _for crying out loud!

Eddie peeks in my room then, his eyes wide and anxious. I glance up at him but don't have the energy to lift myself up again. When his eyes meet mine, relief tempers the worry and he rushes over to me.

"Rylie," he murmurs fervently. Sitting on the side of my bed, he reaches out gently to stroke my forehead. "You're awake."

I smile at him weakly. "Hey, Eddie."

"How do you feel?"

I shrug and then wince. The movement hurts the way it does when I have body aches from the flu. "My skin's pretty hot," I tell him. In truth, my skin feels like it's made of embers, like those embers will burst into flames any minute. I feel like a charcoal briquette.

He nods. "Do you need anything?"

I shake my head. I don't know of any cures for post-electric-shock aches. Although... "Well...maybe some water," I say, and my voice croaks for emphasis.

"Okay, I'll be right back," he promises and stands to leave.

I reach out quickly to grab his arm; the movement sends shoots of pain up my bones. "Wait. My parents," I protest.

He blinks at me in confusion. "What about them?"

"Well...what do they think is wrong with me?"

Eddie freezes and his eyes tighten just the slightest bit. His brown eyes harden. "They think you're sick. I told them you and Walter are sick," he says.

"Wait..._you _found us?"

I can see his jaw clench just slightly. "Yes, I found you. Jimmy and Damien and I brought you home."

"Thank you," I murmur quietly.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters and then he narrows his eyes, both concerned and suspicious. "Rylie...What happened?" he asks, sounding almost as though he doesn't want to know.

I sigh, not really knowing how to explain. "Eddie, it's kind of a long story. Maybe later, okay?" I don't mean to sound brusque, but I'm quickly becoming overcome by exhaustion.

Eddie's eyes become cold and reserved. "Fine. I'll go get your water," he mutters and leaves.

As soon as he's gone, my head swims. I struggle to keep afloat, but the exhaustion drags me under. My eyes roll, spinning, and I go under.

_**Rorschach**_

My hand hurts. If it didn't hurt so bad, I would sleep. But it's burning and nothing I do will soothe it.

It doesn't look burned, though, which surprises me. I would have expected it to have been scorched beyond repair.

_It's just the cells, _Manhattan tells me.

I blink. _How is it only my cells? I was struck by lightning._

_How do you think _my _body would react to being struck by lightning?_

I scowl. Pretty sure I'm not in the mood for riddles. _Um, I don't know, I'm not you._

_No, but your body is like mine. At least in some ways. Remember the discussion we had in New York?_

_Yes. I'm able to resist some electrical impulses, yes? _I blink. There is something flickering on the edge of my mind...I try to catch it but I'm too tired and it dances away.

_Yes. Do you know how human nerve endings work?_

_Vaguely..._

_Nerves are stimulated by electrochemical impulses. When the impulses travel across synapses, they are converted from electrical to chemical and back to electrical._

I furrow my brows, wondering irritably what he's getting at. _Right, so...nerves are electrical _and _chemical? _

_Human's nerves are._

I am silent for a long time. _...You told me I was human._

_You are. As am I. But we are both less human than normal humans and so our nerve endings work differently. _

_Could you get to the point?_

_If you prefer. When electricity travels through my body, it is never converted chemically. The same is true for you. Of course, _nothing _is converted chemically within my body anymore, but that is simply because I am an electrical being. You are still a light being._

_...A _what?

_I will explain in time. All you need to know now is that whenever electricity passes through your body, you will be able to channel it with the right focus. _

_Why do I need to focus if it's never converted chemically?_

_Because your body wants to convert it. It fights to do so, even though it can't, and so you must channel it in order to make sure it doesn't stay in the synapses and damage them. _

_And...because it wasn't converted chemically...it didn't burn my hand? _I conclude, still a bit confused.

_Exactly. When you experience emotion, does it ever show on your skin? If you picture yourself burning, does your body become charred?_

_No..._

_This works the same way. These electrical impulses happen _within _you, and so it never leaves a scar. However if you don't channel the electricity, it _will _damage nerve endings permanently._

_What about Cadence?_

_What about her?_

_How is she not burned? _

_You channeled it through her, too. _

_How?_

_You are connected._

His words are like their own lightning strike, burning me from the inside out. I struggle to respond, but for a moment I'm stricken by the burning. _...How? _I manage to choke out.

_You will know in time, _is his unsatisfying answer.

I grit my teeth and clench my hands into fists, then wince as sharp, agonizing pains shoot up from my left hand. Drawing in a hissing breath, I quickly unclench my fist.

_You should sleep, Walter. Your body needs to recover, _Manhattan says.

_Fine, _I reply through gritted teeth, but I can already feel my body relaxing. I try to focus my brain on anything except the pain in my hand, but I can't. The exhaustion claws at me but it can't find a good grip.

_Count sheep, _Manhattan suggests.

I laugh. _Thanks, Doc, _I mutter, rolling my eyes, but I'll try anything.

I get to forty-seven when I finally fall asleep.

_**Rylie**_

It takes Walter and I nearly five days to fully recover. We don't speak much, and I'm not sure whether or not I want to. His reaction to my wanting to talk about the...thing...really hurt my feelings. What's wrong with...whatever happened?

Eddie, though still frustrated that I won't tell him what happened, has been very helpful in the recovery. Even with Walter, though sometimes I have to remind him. My parents still think that Walter and I just caught a flu bug, but Jimmy and Damien managed to convince them not to take us to the doctor's, a mystery that never ceases to amaze me.

It's on the fifth afternoon that we get the news. Walter and I are sitting next to each other on the couch, silent, looking at the TV and not each other. The tension between us crackles but I try to ignore it.

Eddie slams through the kitchen door and skids out to us. We both jump and whip around to look at him, surprised by his sudden entrance. His eyes are wide with horror, his face drawn and white as a sheet. I feel my stomach drop and roll, like it's practicing how to put out a fire. Something is wrong.

"Maury's in the hospital," he says.

I leap to my feet immediately. "_What? _Why?"

"I don't know. They...they found him in a warehouse next to their gang leader- Vinny," Eddie tells us.

"Dead?" Walter inquires darkly and Eddie nods one short nod.

"Yeah, and it's a wonder they didn't kill Maury, too. Looks like they did a real number on Vinny."

"We need to go! We need to go now!" I insist, looking from Eddie to Walter urgently.

Eddie nods again. "I know." Then he turns to Walter. "Contact Dr. Manhattan."

Walter narrows his eyes. "Edward, I don't think that's the best idea. The suits will be all over us as soon as they pick up his signature," he argues.

"I don't think we need to worry about suits right now. They're busy," Eddie replies darkly.

Walter and I exchange a glance. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"Maybe it's better to let my dad explain when we get there. I told Jimmy and Damien and they'll tell your parents where you've gone," he says to me, then turns back to Walter. "Now can we go?"

Walter pauses for a moment, lifting his eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully, and then refocuses on us. "Yes."

And then, quite suddenly in a flash of tingling blue, I am no longer in my living room. In less than a second, I am suddenly outside of Bellevue Hospital. I stumble a little, unaccustomed to the strange charge of energy running through me. But I don't hesitate; as soon as my feet are securely on the ground, I run through the front doors of the hospital, flanked by Eddie and Walter.

Eddie's parents are waiting for us. Sam and Sandra- _Dan and Laurie, _I correct myself mentally- rush over to Eddie first. A bunch of other people follow them, looking both curious and worried. On a girl's neck, I see a small inkblot tattoo and the puzzle pieces fall together. _Truthers, _I realize.

Then Laurie flutters over to me and embraces me before I have time to react. "Oh, Rylie, it's so good to see you," she murmurs in my ear.

"Yeah, you, too," I reply and then smile at her when she holds me out at arm's length.

Dan lays his hand on my shoulder and smiles down at me. "Hey, Rylie. Long time," he says.

I feel a stab of pity- he looks so _tired. _I wrap my arms around him and press my face briefly into his chest. "Yeah. Real long."

"Daniel. Where is Maury?" Walter asks in a low, urgent voice.

Dan pats me on the back, looking up over my head at Walter. "He's in room 225, under examination. We're not allowed to go in yet," he replies grimly, and there is an undercurrent of frustration in his voice like static electricity.

"They don't know what's wrong with him?"

Dan shakes his head. "Blood loss is all that's apparent so far. It's been almost a week and they still haven't figured out exactly what's wrong with him," he growls.

"Staples," a quiet voice interrupts. We all turn to see the short Mexican girl with the tattoo on her neck standing there, looking numb. "They found staples in his head."

"_Staples?" _I repeat, looking up at Dan for confirmation.

He nods reluctantly. "Yeah. Staples."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Eddie demands, glaring at his dad angrily.

"Eddie!" I hiss sternly, elbowing him in the side but he ignores me.

"We didn't want to worry you-"

"It's our _business! _This concerns us as much as it concerns you!" Eddie snaps.

"Mason Edward, don't talk to your father that way," Laurie snaps back.

"He-"

"Eddie!" I growl under my breath, grabbing his arm. He turns his glare on me and I shake my head. After a moment, he relaxes.

"Sorry, Dad," he sighs, giving Dan an apologetic glance. "I'm just scared, you know?"

Dan sighs, too, and lays his hand on his son's shoulder. "We all are," he replies.

_~r.~ _

"Rylie. Rylie, honey, wake up," a low voice murmurs. I blink open my eyes to see Laurie, smiling sympathetically at me. Lifting my head from Eddie's shoulder, I stretch out the kinks and try to banish the sleep from my muddled brain.

"What's up?" I ask, voice still thick with sleep.

"Maury's awake. We told him you guys are here and he's been asking for you," she whispers, keeping her voice quiet so as not to wake Walter, who is snoring lightly in the chair on my right.

My eyes fly open, instantly alert. "Really?"

Laurie nods. "I'll wake Eddie and send him in after you," she says as I get up, patting me on the shoulder. Thanking her quietly, I rush out of the waiting room and fly to room 225.

Maury's waiting for me, like Laurie said he would be, and he smiles tiredly at me when I walk in. "Hey, there, Rylie. It's been a while, hasn't it?" he rasps.

"Maury," I greet him, pulling up a chair and sitting at his bedside. "How are you?"

"Well, I have this horrible pain in my head and I can't feel the rest of my body, plus I'm really cold cuz of blood loss."

"I meant besides all that."

Maury shrugs weakly. "Okay, I guess. Been pretty busy," he says, smiling just a little. "Hear you have been, too."

I duck my head, shrugging self-consciously. "Yeah."

"Patriot, huh?"

"Shut up."

"No, no, it's cool. I'm jealous." But then the teasing light fades from his eyes. "Maybe if I had become a vigi like you, I could've done something about all this shit."

I reach out to rub his shoulder gently. "Maury, don't," I protest. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"Then why does it feel like it?" he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and putting on his pouty face.

I laugh half-heartedly. "Cuz as much as you'd like to deny it, you are totally, one hundred percent a giant pussy," I reply and we both immediately burst out laughing.

"Yeah, you're probably right about that," he says and then slowly his smile fades. When his eyes meet mine again, they are troubled. "Guess you heard about Vinny?"

I nod. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

He shrugs, trying to play it off. "It happens. Especially when you're in _our _business." His eyes darken.

"Too much," I mutter in agreement.

"Maury," Eddie says from behind me, relief thick in his tired voice.

"Hey, Eddie," Maury says, grinning.

"You know, I imagined this meeting a little differently," Eddie says, pulling up a chair to sit beside me.

Maury raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? How's that?"

"I always saw you on the wrong side of a jail cell."

Maury snorts. "Nah, just on the wrong side of a coffin." Eddie and I exchange a glance, sobering up. "Aw, c'mon, guys. It's worth it, right? At least when they start messing with us, we know we're doing somethin' right!" Maury insists, but neither of us are convinced.

"Maury, do you remember anything?" Eddie asks quietly.

I watch as Maury's eyes grow distant. "Not much," he admits. "I remember they had just killed Troy, and I kind of remember...a fight of some sort. Getting hurt..." He trails off, shaking his head. "But I don't remember anything else. Sorry."

Eddie purses his lip, and I feel just as frustrated as him. "No, it's okay. You've been through a lot," I assure him.

"Yeah. Maybe it's good I _don't _remember, yeah?" he chuckles darkly.

I look at Eddie and he looks back, both of us grim. "Yeah," I agree quietly.

We're quiet for a long time, and then Maury speaks up, looking tentative. "Now...I'm not really...well, I don't know much about medical shit and all that, but...the staples in my head..." He trails off, biting his lip uncertainly.

"Yeah?" I encourage him.

"Now, I could be wrong, but aren't staples only necessary to keep skin together?" he asks.

"Yes," Eddie answers through his teeth. His eyes are tight, and I realize that he's already thought of something. I peer at him curiously but stay silent, not wanting to interrupt Maury.

"Well...see, I don't remember much about that fight, but I do remember the pain. I remember having my leg broken, my wrists cracked, and my back sliced, probably by a knife." He pauses and then looks at us meaningfully. "But I don't remember ever hurting my head."

My blood runs cold. My stomach rolls sickeningly and I bite down on my tongue to make sure I'm not going to throw up. What is he implying, that...that the suitshad done something to his head? Opened it up? Glancing at Eddie, I realize that he doesn't look horrified enough; he's already considered this.

"Now, I haven't mentioned any of this to the doctors cuz they wouldn't believe me. They think the feds are golden boys," he says, rolling his eyes. "But I just...I'd really appreciate it if you'd have someone look into it." There is fear in his eyes now, and he tries to hide it.

"Of course, man. Of course we will," Eddie promises quietly and pats Maury on the shoulder.

Relief glimmers in Maury's eyes. "Thanks, man," he says and then sighs, relaxing into his hospital bed. "Anyway. I'm kinda tired. Don't think I'll last much longer. You guys should probably go."

"Alright. It was nice seeing you, Maury," I reply.

"Yeah. Nice seein' you, too, Rylie. Eddie."

As soon as we close the door behind me, I feel it hit me like a freight train in my chest. The sob bursts, uncontrollable, from me, and Eddie immediately wraps his arm around me, pulling me close.

"Shh, Rylie, honey, it's okay," he murmurs, letting me cry into his shirt.

"S-s-sorry," I stammer through my tears. "I don't mean to act like such a p-p-pussy."

"It's alright. I feel kinda like a p-p-pussy right now, too," he jokes and I have to laugh.

When we step into the waiting room, everyone jumps up immediately, alarmed by my expression. "It's okay. Maury's fine," Eddie tells them.

Everyone sits down except Walter, who comes over to me immediately. Bending over me, he looks at me anxiously. "What's wrong, Cadence?" he whispers.

I look up at him in surprise from under my tear-embellished eyelashes. "N-nothing, I'm just...a little overwhelmed right now," I tell him. Then, smiling hesitantly, I wrap my hands around his for a minute and give them a gentle squeeze.

Walter is silent for a moment and then he nods. "Daniel was just telling me about what the government's been up to," he tells me and his mouth curls with barely concealed rage. I stiffen, remembering that the suits hadn't attacked us, hadn't even acknowledged Dr. Manhattan's energy signature.

Quietly, Eddie and I follow him back to our chairs. I give Eddie a wary glance, and he just raises his eyebrows and reaches down to hold my hand. I take strength from that and prepare myself for whatever is going on now.

With a glance at Walter, who nods, Dan comes over to us and crouches down in front of me. "The FDA," he begins with a heavy sigh. "Has asked parents around the country to subject their children to...certain tests," he begins.

I narrow my eyes immediately. "What tests?"

"They want to test a new anthrax vaccine."

I am silent for a moment, letting that sink in. "But...the anthrax virus..."

Dan nods. "It's not going around, yeah. I know. That's why they're _also _asking parents' permission to inject their children with anthrax _first." _

There is a beat of silence. Then...

_"What?" _I screech. Only Eddie's hand in mine keeps me from leaping to my feet. I feel as though I'm about to burst from either shock or rage. The receptionist at the front counter looks over at us, and I remind myself to keep my voice down.

"Well what have parents said?" I demand.

"We've been trying to patrol as much of New York as possible, keeping track of daycares, children's hospitals. Making sure they don't decide to take them by force. But they've been contacting parents firsthand and...it appears that half of the parents they've contacted have agreed," Dan tells me reluctantly.

The room seems to tilt a little. _Wrong! So wrong! _my soul screams. Walter touches my hand lightly, and I jump; looking down, I realize that I'm clenching the hand that isn't holding Eddie's so hard that my fingernails have cut deep into my palm.

"How...could...they?" I manage to choke out in a nearly inaudible voice.

"The FDA promised that the risk was minimal, that the vaccine would work," Dan explains softly.

"Have they done it yet?" I ask, swallowing bile.

Dan shakes his head. "They haven't gathered enough...subjects yet," he says. His teeth clench and his voice contorts with rage when he says "subjects".

"So that means we still have a chance then! We can still stop this from happening!" I exclaim. I realize dimly that my voice is rising shrilly with desperate hope.

But even as I speak, Dan shakes his head, his expression solemn. "No, no, honey, we can't. The FDA has the upper hand now and they know it. No one would listen to a bunch of gang members and vigis about their child's safety."

I stare at him, my eyes wide and filling again with tears, my mouth hanging open. There is a strange, strangled sound coming from my throat, and I scramble to shut it; my teeth crack against each other so hard that there is a tremor of aftershock in my head.

Then, surrounded by gang members and vigis, I hang my head and let the tears spill over once more.

_~r.~_

_Cadence._

"Mmm.."

_Cadence._

"Mm...what?" I grumble, turning over in my chair.

_It's time._

"Time for what?" I mumble irritably. Who is this stranger keeping me from sleep?

"Cadence?"

I growl under my breath and my eyes flash open. Walter is kneeling in front of me, watching me curiously. "_What, _Walter?" I demand.

"You were dreaming. It looked like you were having a nightmare," he explains.

I blink, waking up enough to realize that Walter wasn't the one speaking in my dream. My heart flutters a little in my chest as my mind clears enough for me to remember. "I...was dreaming about Dr. Manhattan," I whisper. Walter stiffens. I narrow my eyes. "What is it?"

He is silent for a moment. "Did you dream you were on Mars with him?" he asks.

"Yes..." He nods, not really looking surprised, more resigned. I glare at him. "What? What is it, Walter?"

"We have to go," he says quietly, stands, and then extends his hand to me. I stare at him, suspicious, confused. He looks down at me impatiently. "Well?"

"Where are we going?" I demand.

"Mars," he answers.

My mouth pops open in shock. "Wha...are you...you can't be serious! Walter, it was just a dream!"

"Cadence, I know Manhattan. That wasn't just a dream. It felt like a message. Now let's go," he says brusquely. He's so cavalier about it, it's like he's been making consistant trips to Mars all this time.

With my mouth still hanging open, I take his hand and let him lead me outside. Once we're in an alley, far enough away from prying eyes and streetlights, he lifts his eyes challengingly to the skies and holds his arms out as if to say "well what are you waiting for?"

"Manhattan. You want us," he growls. Almost as soon as he speaks, the blue surrounds us and takes us away.

In the next second, I am standing in a red wasteland surrounded by the endless expanse of blackness and stars. I suck in a huge, shocked breath, and part of me wonders how I can do that. I stare in wonder, overcome by the impossibility of the situation. No, no, I can't be here, this has to be a dream. I mean, being able to breathe in zero-gravity is proof of that.

But then...

"Walter. Cadence. Thank you for joining me."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it was a lot of dialogue. I'll probably have the next chapter out pretty soon, just need to revise it. Oh, and I don't own the poem at the beginning- just saying. Anyway, please review!


	42. Forty Two

NOTE: Okay, first off, I just want to send out a huge hug and a THANK YOU! to all of my fabulous reviewers! Why, you ask? Because we've reached 100+ reviews! I never expected that, and I obviously couldn't have gotten there without all of you guys so thank you! Now, back to business :P You will need the amazing song "Charlie Brown" by Coldplay for the end scene where Walter and Rylie are watching the sunset by the lane. :)

42. Light a Fire (A Flame in My Heart)

Rylie

Whipping around, my jaw drops even lower toward the rusty red ground as my eyes fall upon the naked blue man standing before me. Quickly, blushing, I try to avert my eyes but he doesn't seem to notice or care.

Walter, however, seems to both notice and care. "Manhattan," he growls, clenching his fists at his sides. "Would it kill you to wear clothes?" he mutters through gritted teeth.

Dr. Manhattan just watches Walter with bright, starburst eyes. "I have no need of clothes. They are a modern preoccupation. You both were born naked. Neither of you should feel uncomfortable," he replies.

Walter snorts. "Modern," he mutters and then turns to me to roll his eyes. I twitch my lips to stifle a giggle.

Then I feel Dr. Manhattan's eyes on me and I glance at him, feeling my blush return. He stares at me without blinking. "Cadence," he finally says. "It's nice to finally meet you."

I blink. "Were you expecting me?" I ask, and then immediately feel stupid for asking. He can see the future, you idiot! I think.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time," he responds. And then he smiles, a bland, tepid smile. "Call me Jon. You will anyway."

"Jon..." I repeat shyly.

"What's this about, Manhattan?" Walter interrupts, impatient.

"I need to speak to Cadence."

"Why did you bring me then?"

"You wouldn't have let her go alone."

Walter opens his mouth to say something and then he blinks, as though surprised by Jon's frankness. I snort and he glances at me. I shrug. "Well, he's right. You're way too overprotective," I explain.

He grimaces. "Just trying to protect you from your own stupidity."

Before I can reply, Jon lays his hand on my shoulder. I jump, startled by the sudden contact. Plus I'm not sure how I feel being so close to his glowing blue schlong. He looks down at me, not seeming to notice my awkwardness. "Come talk with me," he says and then looks at Walter, answering what appears to be an unspoken question. "No, you don't come with us."

Walter glares at him, a challenge in his face. "Manhattan-"

"Walter," I interrupt quickly, seeing a fierce argument brewing. "It's okay."

He glares at me and then turns back to Jon. "So what do you expect me to do?"

Jon just looks at him. "That's your decision, Walter," he says. Then, still guiding me with his hand on my shoulder, he turns and leads me away.

As we're walking, I look up at him, trying to ignore his blatant nakedness. "Um, so...how is it that I can breathe?" I ask him curiously.

"I have created a skin of oxygen around you. I once forgot that humans need air, but I promised it wouldn't happen again," he answers. I nod, curious, but I don't ask. We walk in silence for a few moments and then he speaks again. "It never ceases to amaze me how peaceful it is here. Away from human complications and inequities."

I duck my head a little, blushing and slightly embarrassed. But I can't argue with his assessment entirely. Humans suck.

Jon looks at me. "Forgive me. I don't mean to speak so insensitively," he says, but his voice is still flat. "There are always exceptions to generalizations." And then he smiles at me. Or, at least, he tries to smile at me. Not to say that his smile isn't, at least physically and in musculature, correct, but there is no feeling to it, no emotion. Like he is only going through the motions of a trite, customary chronicity.

"No, no," I insist, trying to shake off the disturbed feeling. "It's fine. I know you're not...well, I mean, you're not as...used to human things anymore," I continue, struggling for words.

"I'm not, it's true, but I do remember some things," he says. "And, of course, it helps having a direct link to a human's thoughts and emotions."

"Walter, you mean," I state.

"And you, of course, now," Jon agrees, so calm, so cavalier.

I stop and turn to face him. "What?" I demand, suddenly horrified. Dr. Manhattan has a direct line to my thoughts? All of my thoughts?

He turns to look at me, too, but his expression is the antidote to mine- cool, and effortlessly, infinitely calm. "Don't worry. If this bothers you, I can ignore it at any time. It's not your mind I'm directly connected to. But through Walter's I can connect to yours."

"Through...Walter's?" I manage to choke out.

"Yes. Since your minds are connected now."

Ah. It makes sense now. The memories we'd exchanged during the lightning strike- our minds connecting, intertwining. It still doesn't make this any easier to deal with, though.

"I call it the Touch, the moment your intellect and emotion combine with another's," Jon continues, and he sounds almost proud. Almost.

The Touch. Hmm. I have to say, it is a good way to describe what happened. It had felt, distinctly, as though my mind had touched Walter's. And not just my mind but my very soul had interlocked with his.

"How, though? I mean...how did the lightning...do it?" I ask, not sure how to word my question.

"Touches are not exclusive. That is to say, they happen, but they are rare. Mostly they are traits found only in the psychically inclined. The clairvoyant. Sometimes they happen when a connection- whether physical or emotional- is made between humans. A relationship, a bond, can build to a Touch. But those are even more rare, and they are not as strong. If memory serves, there has never been a Touch quite like yours," he says and gives me another courtesy smile.

"Wait. How did you learn all this?" I ask, confused. How could he know all this, even if he was able to see the future and, apparently, read minds.

"In 1985, I was in a relationship that wasn't working out," he begins and I feel my mouth drop open a little, realizing that he's talking about Laurie. "Though I had seen this happen, I still tried to fix it." He looks at me then, in what appears to be an almost apologetic manner. "Sometimes I question even the puppet strings," he says.

Though I'm not sure exactly what he's talking about, I still feel compelled to answer. "We have to question everything," I tell him, narrowing my eyes.

He gives me another bland smile, but I almost think there's just a touch more warmth to it. "That's what makes you such a good fighter for the coming battle," he says. My heart thuds in my chest. The coming battle? I feel my palms begin to sweat. My thoughts instantly flicker to Walter.

"I was researching relationships, and the inner mechanisms of human bonds. I came across what I call Touches, though you humans have many definitions, some scientific but most prominently the term 'soulmates'," Jon continues. I feel my heart do a little flip in my chest. I swallow hard; soulmates?

"But you never told me...why does lightning cause a Touch, specifically?" I inquire, changing the subject. My hands have started shaking.

"Not lightning. Electricity. Any kind of electrical activity can become condusive to a Touch. These are virtually nonexistant- unique, actually, in your case- because not one human's brain works exclusively electrically. Except for Walter's," Jon explains.

I hesitate, struggling to keep up. "Okay, um...why does Walter's work electrically if no one else's does?"

"Because I created him, but I wasn't able to create him perfectly. There is still a trace of myself in him. A fingerprint on his DNA," he replies. "So because his is the only mind capable of being affected exclusively by electricity, the Touch between the two of you is absolutely unique."

Despite the fact that this is turning into a very strange conversation, I can't help feeling a bit satisfied by the fact that we are completely unique, set apart from anyone else in the world.

"Of course, there are other ways to trigger a Touch, electrochemically- as nerves work. Sort of how a certain scent or sound can trigger nostalgia. A memory or a bond can do the same," Jon continues.

"So...memory can cause a Touch?"

"Sometimes. Other times it must be stronger. A physical relationship."

I pause, letting that sink in. "You...you mean, like...sex?"

Jon nods. "It can be a very powerful thing," he says. I feel myself blushing, a flashburn of heat across my skin, and my thoughts once again flicker to Walter. I'm very glad he isn't here now, listening to this conversation.

"So...did this Touch thing ever happen to you?" I ask curiously, and then bite my tongue. Why would I ask such a personal question of a man who no longer remembers how to feel?

Jon blinks, staring off into the distance. We've stopped walking now, simply standing at the edge of a cliff, gazing across to the distant cliffside opposite. "I like to think it did," he finally replies. "But if it did it was a long time ago."

"Sorry," I say, looking down. "I didn't mean to ask something like that..."

"Don't be sorry for your questions. If it weren't for curiosity, mankind never would have made it this far," Jon replies.

I snort, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, we're just pluggin' along. Top of the world. Kings of the universe," I mutter sarcastically.

"Your cynicism is understandable," Jon says, nodding. "It's been hard for me to accept that the future is inevitable. That we are alone with our own mistakes." As he says this, he looks up at the endless expanse of stars above us, and I follow his gaze. It is beautiful, but from where I'm standing it looks a little cold.

"I suppose, though, human ignorance is best," Jon finally continues after a long silence. I look at him, puzzled, and wait for him to go on. "If they knew they were alone, I'm not sure they could continue. Hope truly is the Word."

I narrow my eyes. "What do you mean?"

Jon glances at me and then away. "I'm merely pointing out the absence of any salvation, at least beyond physical existance."

I draw back, stung. "You can't be serious. Are you trying to tell me that God doesn't exist?" I challenge, a hint of a growl in my voice.

"He doesn't. There is no proof, and I need none. If there truly were a God, He would have done something by now to fix the wrongs in your world," he replies calmly.

I gape at him. "What do you think we're doing?" I demand, exasperated, baffled.

Jon looks at me then, directly, piercing me with his unnerving gaze. "If there were a God, there would be no need for your efforts," he points out.

Rage boils in my chest. I clench my fists at my sides. I struggle to calm myself. Open mind, Rylie, I remind myself. "What if God is simply working through us?"

"Why should an all-powerful God work through his subjects?"

I clench my teeth, fighting not to roll my eyes. Subjects, I snort. Right. "To save us. To give us a choice. To teach us. A number of reasons," I say, shrugging.

"You're pulling at straws, Cadence," Jon replies, still infuriatingly calm, unshakable.

"I am not!" I shout and then take a deep breath, steadying myself. "Look. I know there's no proof that He exists. But there's also no proof that He doesn't."

"Actually-"

"And," I continue, talking over him. "Besides. That's what faith is for. Faith is believing in something that you can't necessarily see." That said, I look back out across the wide canyon before us, crossing my arms over my chest. "Plus...how could such beauty exist without a creator?" I challenge lightly.

Jon watches with me. "It is beautiful. But perhaps it creates itself?"

I shrug, allowing that. "Perhaps. But remind me- who created Walter?"

"I did."

"Exactly."

"But I'm not God."

"I never said you were."

Jon looks at me then, and there is honest curiousity in his face, even though he's already seen this whole moment play out in the future. I look back at him and shrug again. "I said beauty couldn't exist without a creator."

He nods to me and turns back to the canyon. "Perhaps we should agree to disagree," he says.

I smirk just a little. "Perhaps," I agree.

~r.~

It still feels a little weird walking around on Earth after being on Mars. It's been two days since our little trip there. Jon had teleported us back to the alley near the hospital just in time for the sun to rise and Maury to wake up again. We'd spent that day there and then, after promising to keep in touch with Dan and Laurie, Jon had teleported Walter, Eddie, and I back home.

The sun's going down now and I'm off to look for Walter. He's missing again, but I'm not worried this time. We've already been struck by lightning- what else could happen to us?

He's out near the lane again, like I'm expecting. He turns as I approach and a small smile graces his lips. "Cadence," he says softly.

"Walter," I reply, nodding to him and taking my place at his side. We're facing away from the sunset, watching the play of red and golden light on the cornfield in front of us. For a while it's silent, but silence is comfortable with us.

Then Walter speaks. "I'm sorry, Cadence," he says quietly.

I look at him, confused. "For what?"

"For...what happened. That night..." He trails off, but I know exactly what he's talking about. What else would it be?

"Walter, it's okay," I assure him. Then I smile at him. "It was a good thing."

Walter's brows pull down and he frowns. "Cadence, I could have killed you. I could have gotten you killed," he says.

I put my hand on his chest. "But you didn't," I insist gently. Then I glare at him. "But you could have gotten yourself killed," I growl. "Why would you do that?"

Walter looks down, avoiding my gaze. "I was...unhappy," he finally mumbles.

"Unhappy?" I repeat flatly.

"I was feeling guilty about getting you into this job, about training you, about everything. I didn't want to...be around to make your life anymore...complicated," he finishes, his lips curling just slightly on the last word with wry bitterness.

I gape at him, exasperated and pissed. "Is that all? Fuck, Walter, my life would have been complicated anyway! Hell, I'm lucky you were around to teach me all this vigilante crap cuz otherwise I probably would have gone off and done it without the proper training. Walter, I owe you. I owe you my life. And...more than that," I tell him, touching his left hand.

He hisses in a sharp breath and jerks his hand away. I snatch my hand back quickly, shocked. He looks at me briefly, apologetically. "Sorry," he mutters. "Just hurts."

Oh. Right. Electrocuted. "Let me see," I whisper, holding my hands out. After a moment's hesitation he gently sets his hand in mine. I stare down at it, unable to really believe there are no marks on it, none at all. After our discussion about God and soulmates, Jon had explained how Walter and I had escaped our Touch unscathed, but it was a little more unbelievable seeing the proof of it right in front of me.

"Jesus..." I breathe.

"It only hurts on the inside, but it's getting better. You more or less just caught me by surprise," Walter explains quietly.

I give him a meek smile. "Sorry."

He rolls his eyes. "Apology accepted." I blink, reminded of the very first time we'd met. Walter looks at me curiously. "Why are you smiling like that?" he asks, suspicious.

I shake my head, jolted from the memory. "No reason. Just remembering when I ran into you," I explain.

He needs no further explanation than that. He nods, smiling a little, too. "Ah. The day my brand new life changed," he mutters, rolling his eyes.

I laugh. "Mine, too."

"Except your life wasn't brand new," he points out. Then he pauses, looking thoughtful. "Imagine that. Your life changing so irrevocably after just discovering it," he says and then shakes his head in a wondering manner.

I feel my heart flutter in my chest, agreeing with him. I close my hands over his injured one, holding it securely but very gently; it feels so vital and warm in mine. Walter's right; our lives have changed. But I can't see anything but goodness in it. Usually I hate change; closing my eyes and breathing in, I embrace it now.

Together we watch the light slowly fade from the cornfield as the sun goes down behind us. We don't look at the sunset. To me, it seems a hopeful pose- looking instead at the eastern horizon, awaiting the new dawn.

Eventually, when the first stars begin to peek at us in the darkening, steel blue sky, Walter sighs and pulls his hand from mine. "We should head out. Eddie and the others have probably already left," he says.

"Yeah," I sigh reluctantly. Then I look at him through narrowed, suspicious eyes. "So...we're straight? I mean, you're not gonna send me home at the first sign of danger, right?"

Walter's lips twitch. "That depends on how dangerous things get," he teases.

"Uh oh," I say.

His brows furrow. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that tomorrow, we're going to have to face something quite terrifying, quite possibly the most dangerous thing we've ever encountered." I raise my eyebrows, leering at him.

He draws back, startled. "What?" he repeats.

Then I grin at him. "Marching band."

"...Excuse me?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please review! :)


	43. Forty Three

NOTE: Okay, hey everybody! Sorry I've been gone for a while, I had finals to study for :P Back to work! :) You will need "Nine in the Afternoon" by Panic! at the Disco for the first part in Rylie's POV, "Stereo Hearts" by Gym Class Heroes for the second part in her POV, and finally "That Green Gentleman" by Panic! at the Disco for the last part in her POV. Please enjoy!

43. Pretty. Odd. (Coming Home)

_**Rylie**_

"I don't even know where I'm supposed to sit," Walter grumbles self-consciously.

I give him a disbelieving look. "Walter, do you not see the five thousand rows of stone steps in front of you? They're called 'stands' and people sit in them during football games," I tell him and then roll my eyes sarcastic and exasperated.

Walter throws me a withering look. "Cadence, I'm not an idiot. I know what they're for, what I more meant by my statement was 'I don't even know why I have to be here'," he retorts.

I grin at him, not letting his words hurt me. I know he's only acting so gruff because he doesn't like being around a lot of people. "Because I want you to see how wonderful and awesome my band rats are," I tell him cheerfully. He just rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, you can finally get a tan on that pasty complexion you have," Jimmy quips from the driver's seat, throwing us a glance in the rearview mirror as he pulls into a parking space.

Walter glares at him flatly, his eyes black and murderous. "I don't tan, Jimmy," he growls. I giggle quietly and he turns sharply to glare at me; I try to straighten my features into a serious expression without much luck.

Jimmy laughs. "Oh, right, you're a ginger!" Damien and I burst out laughing then, but Walter just curls his lip in a little snarl and crosses his arms over his chest.

The four of us head up to the school, to the band doors where I see a few familiar faces. I am nearly bouncing with excitement. This is my last year in marching band so it's special anyway, but now I can show it to Walter, too. I love being able to share with him any part of my world that I haven't already.

He doesn't get it. Yet. But marching band is really important to me. In a lot of ways it's saved me. I had come up to high school from a dark place; junior high had nearly destroyed me. Looking back on it, I'm not sure there was a time in that place of purgatory when I was ever truly happy, or even just content. There had been many times when I'd very nearly ended it all.

Then I'd come to high school, expecting it to get worse. But it hadn't, and that had been because of band. At first, I'd been skeptical. I hadn't really wanted to meet new people. Sure, I'd known Jimmy and Damien would be there, but they were in drumline and I was a clarinet player, so we probably wouldn't be seeing much of each other. Plus I'd been nought to spend any time away from Eddie, since he'd been my saving grace through junior high, the only thing keeping me from completely destroying myself.

Band had welcomed me with open arms, though, and I'd fit right in, almost as though there had been an open space just waiting for me; I was a puzzle piece fitting into the perfection of a jigsaw. There's nothing quite like band kids, too- rambunctious, strange, crazy, and all usually thinking in unison, or at least along the same lines. It's as if we're all thinking on a different frequency than the rest of the school.

Outcasts, but we make it look good.

So of course I'm excited to show Walter, because I'm sure he will get it.

Because _we're _outcasts, too.

"Am I allowed to come inside?" Walter asks skeptically, drawing back a little as we approach the band doors.

I throw him an impatient look. "It's not like we're some secret cult," I reply, rolling my eyes.

"It kind of is, actually," I hear Damien mutter and Jimmy laughs.

"Just c'mon," I growl, grabbing Walter's arm and practically dragging him inside. I lead him over to the clarinet and flute lockers, which are stacked against a wall across from a rail in a very cramped hallway. There are already a bunch of people there, in a loud babble of excited voices as people greet each other after the summer apart. I feel Walter's muscles tense under my hand. Sighing, I let him go, forcing him to float on his own for a while without a life preserver.

Emmi sees me almost immediately and waves, and then her mouth pops open in shock when she sees Walter. Her eyes grow wide with horror and confusion, and that's when I remember, so far back it seems like a lifetime ago, her warning to me about a ginger hobo who used to lurk around the school. I wince. Oops.

"Hey, Emmi," I greet her, pretending not to notice her reaction. "I'd like you to meet Walter. Walter, this is my friend, Emmi."

Walter nods to her. "Hello," he mumbles quietly and I grit my teeth. Why can't he, for once, not be so weird around people?

"H-hi, Walter. Rylie, you didn't tell me you made a new friend," Emmi says, and I hear the hidden meaning behind her words. She's practically glaring at me, and I can feel the lecture brewing underneath her calm exterior.

I smile at her sheepishly, shrugging. "Yeah, well..." I trail off.

"Rylie!" someone says loudly from behind us, and I turn in time for Luke, the head snare in the drumline, to sling his arm around my shoulder; he almost has to slouch he's so much taller than me. He gives me a stern look. "_Someone _didn't call me over the summer," he says.

I grin at him. "Sorry. I was really busy," I tell him. What an understatement.

"That's no excuse. I thought you loved me," he retorts.

"No, she loves _me,_" Ross, another snare, crows, leaning over the rail on my left that overlooks the woodwind hallway.

"She loves _us, _so _down boys!" _Jimmy interrupts, one arm wrapped carelessly around Damien's waste.

"What does it matter if she loves you? You're off-limits anyway, fag," Luke retorts. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Walter stiffen in shock at the vulgar word, but I just smirk, shaking my head. Drumline is a little crude with their nicknames, and very casual about using them, but they never mean anything by them.

"Well, I'd be willing to make an exception for _you," _Jimmy replies, fluttering his lashes flirtatiously. Damien just shakes his head, sighing and rolling his eyes indulgently.

"Okay, I think that's more gay than I can take in one sitting," Luke says, lifting his hands as if in surrender and Jimmy laughs. Then Luke glances at Walter curiously. "Who's this?" he asks me.

"Luke, this is my friend, Walter," I tell him, grinning proudly. "Except he's more my...partner in crime."

Walter snorts, but shakes Luke's hand when he offers it. "Hello, Luke," he says quietly.

"Hey, Walter, nice to meet you, man. You just here to watch or...?"

"I'm here for Cadence," Walter replies, a little quickly. Luke nods, and his eyes flicker to me, specutive and more than a little curious.

"Rylie!" someone exclaims, and then I feel arms wrap around me from behind.

I laugh. "Hey, Bailey."

"Where have you _been, _chica?" she demands, resting her chin on my shoulder.

"Oh...here and there. Been pretty busy lately."

"Too busy to see your favorite battery friends?"

"Ease up, Bailey," Ben, Bailey's brother, says good-naturedly, coming up from behind us. Bailey grins and let's me go so that Ben can give me a quick hug. "Hey, Rylie," he murmurs quietly.

"Hey, Ben," I reply, smiling at him.

Before we can say anything else, Jones, the band director, whistles to call us to attention. With a little wave in Walter's direction, I leave him to follow the rest of the band kids to the center of the room. Jones gives us his "beginning-of-the-year" speech, filling the incoming sophomores in on some technical information so they'd be semi-prepared to practice out on the field.

Then it's time to head out to the field, and I flutter over to Walter, who is still standing in the woodwind hall, peering over the rail at us. He looks at me sullenly and I just roll my eyes. "C'mon, Walter," I encourage him, holding out my hand as an offering. After a moment's hesitation, he takes it.

As we're strolling outside after the rest of the loudly babbling, bouncing band kids, Walter glances at me. "'Battery friends'?" he murmurs curiously.

"Battery is the drumline- the snares, the tenors, and the basses. Pit is the front ensemble- the chimes, the timpany. It's how we distinguish which percussion we're talking about," I explain with a shrug.

"Ah..." Walter pauses and then his lips purse in disapproval. "Are they always so foul with their language?" he grumbles.

I try to stifle a laugh; I knew he'd bring it up. "It's a term of endearment, don't worry," I assure him.

"Hurm," he growls, clearly still not in approval. I laugh again.

As we're heading out onto the field, the football team passes us, sweating and breathing heavily from practice. Eddie, in full gear and holding his helmet under his arm, grins at us, dripping with sweat, and gives us a little nod.

"Band geeks," he greets us.

"Football meatheads," I reply, smiling lightly; my smile grows when I hear his answering laugh behind us.

"More terms of endearment?" Walter inquires wryly. I grin at him cheekily.

"Why of course, you grumpy little bastard."

_**Malcom**_

"Well, now. Rob. Before we take this to the coutroom, I need to know a few things." I try to keep my tone neutral, but the insolent way in which this little punk is staring at me, the casual way in which he leans back in his chair, just serve to infuriate me beyond belief.

"Sure thing. Ask away," Rob replies.

I grit my teeth. The words will taste like bile, I know, but this is my job and it has to be done. "Now, you claim that the cop started beating you for talking back to him, yes?"

Rob nods, curling his lip. "Yeah."

"What exactly were you doing to draw the cop's attention to you in the first place?" Like I have to ask. They're all the same.

"Protesting," he replies, shrugging.

"Protesting what?"

"The government."

I try not to roll my eyes. "Right, because you think...they're evil," I say.

Rob's expression quickly becomes outraged. "Hey, don't use that fuckin' tone with me, man. I am not crazy and I'm not wrong, so why don't you get over yourself?" he shouts.

I hold my hands up to stop him, then I level him with a stern glare. "Now, Rob. Do you really think it's wise to disrespect someone in my position? I don't have to take this case, you know," I tell him.

Rob's eyes narrow and he glares back at me, but I've got the upper hand and he knows it. Finally he relaxes into his chair again and shrugs. "Whatever. I just think you should have a little more neutrality, but what do I know?"

Clenching my jaw, I swallow my irritation and continue. "Why don't we try a different approach, yeah? Tell me what happened in your own words. Don't leave anything out."

He snorts. "There's no need to. I'm in the right," he responds.

"I never said you weren't."

"You don't need to. Now, I don't expect you to understand why we were protesting, but it makes sense to us. See, the government has steadily been taking our rights from us and blatantly ignoring both the Constitution and the will of the general public. So we've decided to do something about it."

"Something, as in destroying public property and attacking innocents," I can't help interrupting.

Rob gives me a look, as though he's honestly shocked I would come to such a conclusion. "No," he says earnestly. "No, man, we don't do that shit. That's not us. Not all gangs are truthers, you know."

"No, but all gangs are criminals," I reply scathingly.

"Look, man, you're obviously prejudiced and that sucks. But I'm not going to agree with you just because you think you're the center of the universe. Just because you've got a fancy suit and a college degree doesn't mean you know everything, and you obviously don't."

I lean across the table, giving him a challenging look. "Fine, then. Educate me."

Rob grins then, taking my challenge. "That's what I'm trying to do."

_**Rylie**_

_"My heart's a stereo/It beats for you, so listen close/Hear my thoughts in every note/Make me your radio/And turn me up when you feel low/This melody was meant for you/So sing along to my stereo."_

My section and I sing along to "Stereo Hearts" in the giant van that Kat, one of our section leaders, is driving. Walter, sitting next to me, stares out the window, probably trying to ignore the rest of us.

So I turn to him and sing in his ear: _"Would you turn my volume up in front of the cops/And crank it higher everytime they told you to stop?" _Then I lean away and grin at him when he looks at me sharply in surprise. I smirk. "Good song, isn't it?" I ask smugly.

After a moment's hesitation, he nods. "Yeah," he murmurs.

I smile, triumphant. "Yeah, I thought so." Walter stares at me for a moment in disbelief and I stare back. Then we both just laugh quietly and he elbows me in the side, making me jump.

When we reach our destination- Cici's, since band kids love pizza, buffets, and cheap prices and having all three is just amazing to us- I hop out of the car and wait for Walter. I've vowed that I won't abandon him among so many squirrely band rats, since he's definately not used to being around them yet. And it does take some getting used to.

A few other cars pull up around us, and I see Damien's truck among them. I grin; apparently the drumline had the same idea. So the clarinet section and the drumline march into Cici's, chatting amiably and acting as though we own the place. I keep close to Walter's side, though I fall into an intense discussion with Luke and Bailey about how the old Spongebob is so much better than the new Spongebob.

Then when we sit down together, Luke and the drumline surprise me. "So, Jimmy, Damien. You guys missed our summer practice sessions. Where were you?" Luke asks, glancing at him innocently. I narrow my eyes. There is an edge to his voice that instantly makes me suspicious. Around me, I feel a tightening- all of the other drumline kids leaning in to listen for their answer.

Jimmy and Damien exchange a quick glance. "Oh, well, you know...we've been busy," Jimmy replies, and there is an obvious uncomfortable edge to his voice.

"Oh, busy? With what?" Luke inquires, still suspiciously innocent. Walter, sitting next to me, stiffens but he has the sense not to look at Jimmy.

Jimmy shrugs, glancing down at the breadstick he's unconsciously started to pick apart. "Just...preparing for the year. College stuff, you know," he explains.

"_Oh, _is that why you and Damien have been bodybuilding?"

Everyone is silent at our table. Behind me, Russell, a tenor, and Josh, a bass, are leaning across from the other table to listen; their chins are practically resting on my shoulders. Their breathing is loud and annoying in my ears but I don't shake them off. I'm waiting, too.

"What, I can't get in shape?" Jimmy finally growls.

"No, no, I'm just saying it's a bit strange, you know," Luke says with a shrug.

Jimmy narrows his eyes. "No. I don't know."

"Oh, well, then I guess you've been too busy to notice the news but, apparently, there's a new group of vigis eatin' up the scene," Luke explains.

Damien feigns surprise. "Really?"

Luke narrows his eyes. "Really."

"What do they call themselves?" Damien asks, keeping up a more perfect facade than his boyfriend.

"Well, there are five of them. One of them is imitating that old vigi, Rorschach, so that's what they're calling him. He even has the same mask and everything. And then there's Sideswipe, Ironhide, and Patriot, who's a girl."

"You said there were five," Damien murmurs.

"Right. The fifth one's name is Wild Card, isn't that weird?" Luke says, turning back to Jimmy. "I mean...isn't that what we used to call _you _back in the day?"

Jimmy snorts. "Yeah, I guess, but it's not as if _I _created that phrase. It's not such a coincidence," he replies.

"Oh, I don't know. I mean, it's just that _you've _been getting in shape, and that Wild Card guy must be in shape, too." Luke shrugs again.

Jimmy pauses and then fakes a shocked, amused face. "Are you...are you seriously suggesting that _I'm _the _Wild Card? _Hah!" He and Damien start laughing. "Oh, wow, Luke. You've been smokin' Pineapple Express again, haven't you?"

Luke frowns, looking put out. But the rest of the group starts chuckling, too, and I let out my breath in relief. Relaxing, I press myself against Walter's side for a second, and I feel his body relax, too. _This is nice, _I think to myself. My vigi friends and my band friends. The greatest people I know. With a smile, I lean my head on Walter's shoulder and listen as the tension dissolves and everyone starts joking again.

_Appreciate every mixtape your friends make/You never know, we come and go like we're on the interstate._

_**Malcom**_

Sometimes, kismet happens.

I've just finished talking with Rob and I am confused. His account of things...well, they sound...true. I didn't expect that.

But they can't be. Rob's a gang member, a truther, so he must be a dirtbag. He _has _to be.

And yet...I can't help remembering his story, how he and his friends had gone out to protest outside of the police station. He'd said they hadn't hurt anybody, that they'd only spraypainted on the station's walls, that they'd even kept their language clean for onlookers. At least until the cops had started using unprovoked, brute force against them.

Rob had said he'd had no choice but to protect his buddies. And I have to ask myself: wouldn't I have to do the same? If it were me and my friends?

_But it wasn't, _I think to myself fiercely, scowling. I shouldn't be comparing myself to him. I am nothing like him.

But a thought, a thought I don't have the right to have or even consider, pops into my mind, like a stray bullet finding its way through my conscience.

_What if it were Sammy?_

Immediately, I am furious. Absolutely livid. "No," I say out loud, fiercely, loudly. "No! It's not the _same!_" I shout, punching my hand up into the car's sun visor. It slams so hard that it rebounds off the ceiling and the picture I keep there flutters down into my lap.

A wave of staggering disbelief washes through me, so strong I have to pull the car over. I stare down at the picture, her face smiling up at me, her brown eyes twinkling like they always did. Tears prick my eyes. Dimly I register a thin, strangled sound and realize that it's coming from my gaping mouth.

"Sammy," I choke out weakly; my thin voice wavers and breaks on her name. The grief wants to crush me; curling into myself, I clutch at my sides to hold me together as I heave a loud, aching sob that reverberates through my shattered chest.

It's been a while. I've purposely kept myself from thinking too hard about her so that this wouldn't happen. But this new case has dredged up old scars, picking at them so that they bleed.

Finally, after my eyes are aching and sore and the fracture in my heart is throbbing, I look down at the picture in my lap again and stare at it. Just stare at it for a while. After a few moments, my expression becomes thoughtful, wondering. I stare into her sparkling eyes, frozen forever in the picture, and pretend she's staring back.

Sometimes kismet happens. Maybe...maybe she's trying to tell me something.

_**Rylie**_

When we get home, Eddie, Jimmy, Damien and I head straight for the trampoline, bursting with too much energy to relax for a while before training. Walter follows more slowly, sauntering over with his arms across his chest, watching us with one eyebrow raised wryly as the four of us, screaming and laughing, tumble over each other spastically.

"Children," I hear him mutter. "I work with children." He shakes his head in mock despair.

I stop bouncing, crouching down to lean over the side and grin at him. "It just keeps you that much younger, you old curmudgeon."

He snorts out a laugh. "Well, whatever it's doing to me, it can't be good for my heart," he mutters.

"Sure it is! I'm _damn _good for your heart!" I proclaim and then, before he has a chance to respond, Damien wraps his arms around my waste- surprising a little scream out of me- and pulls me backward.

As the four of us wrestle together on the trampoline, my mind is busy reliving today. It had been so nice, almost blissful, having my new vigi family together with my marching family, especially Walter. I really do think that, over time, he'll come to see why my band is so important to me. At least, I hope. And hopefully having him around my band will be good for him, too.

Today feels like a new beginning. I realize that things have really changed for me- my horizons are brighter. At least in some ways. Maybe the world, rushing head-on towards me, has become darker. But _I _am brighter.

Looking out toward Walter, still watching us, it's hard to deny why. And now things are even brighter. I smile up at the sky- it's marching season again, for the last time. _Time to make it count, _I think to myself.

And then I remember Maury, and the children, and the looming, ever-present threat from Big Brother.

Narrowing my eyes, I look back at Walter and he meets my gaze, almost as though he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Maybe he does. _Time to make it count, _I think again.

_In more ways than one._

__AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I hope this wasn't too boring for you but, trust me, it is relevant. I will be working on the next two chapters today and hopefully posting them before Christmas, so be looking for them! They _will _be pretty light and carefree by Watchmen standards but it's simply the layout for future darkness ;) Please review!


	44. Forty Four

NOTE: Hello, all! Hope you all had a Merry Christmas (or merry whatever you celebrate ;) ). For this chapter you will need "River Flows in You" by Yiruma, which is the piano piece that Rory plays at the beginning. And you will need "Look At Me Now" by Chris Brown for Rylie's rapping scene; all you really need for that, though, is the fast part, and you'll know what I'm talking about when you get there. It's actually quite impressive. Anyway, enjoy!

44. Secrets Don't Make Friends (They Create Family)

_**Rylie**_

Like casual sparks flickering inside my veins, the beautiful notes drift through me, feather-soft. I lean against the garage wall with Eddie, my eyes closed, warm with peace. Walter playing the piano is like yoga- peaceful, soothing. Sometimes I'll use it to calm myself before training.

When it ends, I open my eyes and smile peacefully at Walter. "You really should write your own," I tell him. "You're amazing."

He shrugs. "Maybe."

"No, not maybe. You should play in our band," Eddie suggests.

Walter and I both spin around to look at him at exactly the same time; I imagine if I hadn't been so shocked, it would have been funny.

Eddie blinks at us, looking innocently shocked. "What?"

I glance at Walter and he glances back, surprised. "Um...nothing..." I finally answer.

"Eddie, you know the band thing's not really _my_ thing," Walter adds quietly.

Eddie snorts. "You've been hanging out with Rylie and her band rats, haven't you?"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

Eddie sighs. "Yeah, I know. But we really could use a pianist. Think about it," he says, stepping away from the wall. "Okay, well, I'm gonna head out. Jimmy and Damien are hanging with their drummer friends so they're already in town." He leans in to give me a hug, throws a short salute in Walter's direction, then walks out, hands thrust causally in his pockets.

After he's gone, Walter and I look at each other, still blindsided. "Well, that was weird," I state.

"Yeah..." Walter trails off, staring after Eddie, puzzled. "You haven't talked to him or anything?"

I shake my head. "No." I can't help feeling a flutter of hope inside me. Maybe the time apart on patrols has been beneficial. _Maybe Eddie's coming around, _I think longingly.

After a pause, Walter sighs shortly and stands up. "Well. Should we head out?" There is an edge to his voice, though he keeps it polite.

I swallow back my sudden anxiety and force a smile. "Sure." Lately, patrols have been...strange. Mostly because whenever Walter is Rorschach, I can hear his thoughts and he can hear mine. Part of the Touch thing.

Of course it's nice, in some ways, to have a bit of the madness explained- how sometimes, before the Touch, I had been able to sense Rorschach's emotions and thoughts. It had been like a precursor to the real Touch, and all its very real consequences.

And it's also nice on patrol when we need to coordinate. It makes things run much smoother. Plus I don't have to worry about him nearly as much when we're separated.

Still...it's very weird having a direct link to Rorschach's mind. Because _his _mind- not a very happy place to be. It's definately not Sesame Street.

And _my _mind...well, I'd just rather he didn't share it. It's extremely embarrassing, having him know my every thought on patrol. I try very hard not to think about the things I'd much rather he not know.

But we have to patrol. And I still love being with Walter (and Rorschach, I suppose), it's just a little more awkward now.

_~r.~_

"Hey, Rylie, is it okay if some of the battery comes out to your place?" Damien asks. Through the phone's speaker, I can hear Jimmy yelling in the background: "If she doesn't, I'll have to kick her ass!"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I think that'd be fine. When?"

"Well, they said they wanted to come out tonight. That okay?"

"Sure, that's fine. They'll have to leave, though, before patrol," I tell him warningly.

"Well obviously."

"Okay, then. I'll see you all soon."

"Yep. See ya."

"Who's coming out here?" Walter asks from behind me, buttoning up a shirt that I'd gotten for him. I smile; he looks good in it.

"Drumline. They're coming out with Jimsy and Damien," I reply.

"Ah." His answer is so casual, it makes me smile even more. He's definately getting more and more comfortable around my band friends. At least some of them. I know he's still very nervous around all of them at once, but he's getting much better.

Then he continues in a wry voice and it makes me grow cold. "For another interrogation, huh?"

My smile disappears. "Walter, you know that's not true," I say in a quiet, serious voice.

He looks at me in disbelief. "Do I?" he counters.

I give him a look. "We have been around them for the past week and they haven't said anything. What makes you think they're gonna do anything?"

Walter grimaces. "Just a feeling," he grumbles.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, well, I can't just put everything on hold just because _you _get a _feeling," _I mutter. Then I glare at him. "You know, I'm allowed to have other friends besides you." Immediately I want to take back my words. They weren't fair at all.

His eyes grow wide with shock and disbelief. "How does that have anything to do with this?" he demands.

I duck my head. "Nothing," I murmur. "Sorry."

Walter fumes for a moment, breathes out loudly through his nose, and then marches out of the kitchen without another word. I sigh, wishing we hadn't argued. But the truth is that _I'm _a little scared they might find out, too. And I've been trying not to consider that they might still have their suspicions.

By the time the battery arrives, Walter and I are on talking terms again. Things are a little tense, but I'm not worried. We have little spats all the time; it's just part of living with him.

The drummers flood out of Damien's truck like how circus clowns climb out of those little cars. Luke heads over to me with Ross, Jimmy, and Damien, while Ben and Bailey head over to Walter. "Hey, guys. What's kickin'?" I greet them easily.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Ross answers. "Gettin' drunk, goin' to parties, fuckin' whores."

I shake my head in mock despair. "You are gonna sin yourself to an early grave," I tell him.

He laughs. "'Sin myself'?" he repeats skeptically.

"Yep."

Luke wraps his arm around Ross's shoulder. "Ross. What did I tell you about lying?"

Ross glares at him, pretending to be pissed. "Man, not in front of my friends! They think I'm cool!" He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

I reach over and pat him lightly on the head. "Ross, if it makes you feel any better, I actually _never _thought you were cool."

He glares at me blackly, ducking out from under my hand. I stare back at him, trying not to laugh. "Uh oh, Rylie. Ross's got that 'imma-murder-you-with-a-stick' look," Luke warns me, grinning. "You better run."

I nod once. "I'll take that under advisement." And then I take off running and Ross sprints after me. My laughter trails behind me as I run, but I am also aware of a growing sense of fight inside of me. It starts as just a prickle on the back of my neck, but grows, stretching along my spine and through my veins, draining down into my toes and my fingertips. My blood starts to boil, and suddenly all I'm aware of of is knowing Ross is behind me, but not caring. Because my vigilante instincts are taking over.

As I round the corner from behind the shop, I turn on him. He tries to skid to a stop, and for just an instant I see his eyes grow wide with surprise before I descend on him. Flicking out my hand, I snatch his wrist and twist the way Walter taught me, flipping him over onto his back in one swing.

I stand there for a moment, panting and grinning. A moment later, I realize what I've done, and the grin disappears from my face, leaving behind a horrified expression. "Oh my God, Ross, I'm so sorry!" I exclaim.

He stares at me in disbelief, still winded. "Sorry? What the _hell, _dude, you just flipped me the fuck _over!_" he retorts breathlessly.

I nod quickly, trembling with panic. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, I just-"

"Are you alright, Ross?" Walter cuts me off, placing a hand on my shoulder. His tone is brittle. I look up at him, still horrified, and he glares at me. There is fury in his eyes, and I can't blame him. What I did was completely inexcusable.

"Yeah, I think so," Ross replies, glaring at me as he pushes himself to his feet and brushes himself off.

"Man, Rylie, what the hell was _that?" _Luke demands.

"How did you _do _that?" Bailey gushes, her eyes alight with excitement.

"She just got a little over-excited, that's all," Eddie says lightly, but gives me a hard stare. I look down guiltily. Suddenly I find I'm surrounded by everyone and the world seems suddenly crowded and accusatory.

"Over-excited my ass. That was pure fuckin' _warrior shit, _man!" Russell exclaims.

"Warrior shit? Are you on dope again?" Jimmy replies.

"No. But Rylie must fuckin' be on steroids cuz _damn!_"

"Adrenaline. It can make people do incredible things," Walter explains calmly. Then he turns to me, glowering frostily. "Or, in this case, stupid things."

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Luke demands, and suddenly everyone grows quiet. Looking up, I realize that he is directing his hard, determined stare at me.

"Fighting? That wasn't fighting. That was an unfair fuckin' sneak attack!" Ross interrupts.

"Yeah, it was, and I'm sorry," I apologize again.

"Yeah, whatever," he mutters.

"Rylie, someone doesn't just turn on their friend and flip them over like _that_," Luke presses, snapping his fingers for emphasis. "What normal person does that?"

"I never claimed to be normal," I reply meekly.

Luke stares at me for another long moment and then he finally speaks. "Rylie, why are you keeping things from us? You know that's not how family works," he says.

I feel a sharp stab of guilt. Ever since the first day in band my sophomore year, I had been close with the drumline. At first, it was just because I was such good friends with Jimmy and Damien, but then it became something more. I could stand on my own two feet with the battery; they had become like family.

"Secrets don't make friends," Bailey agrees, nudging me with her elbow.

I bite my lip and look to Walter for help. He looks back at me with an unfathomable expression. Then I look at Eddie, who raises an eyebrow at me as if to say "ain't-_my_-decision". Jimmy and Damien just throw me glances of equal helplessness.

And that's when I hear him, so clear in my head that I'm surprised no one else hears him, too. As it is, I _do _see Walter's expression grow surprised, mirroring mine, so I know he hears it at least. _"If it weren't for curiosity..." _Jon breathes in my mind.

I know immediately what he's saying but I can't believe he's saying it. I remember our talk on Mars. I remember telling him that we must question everything. I glance at the drumline surrounding me, from face to face. I _know _what it's like to demand answers and get nothing in return, to fight and strive for the truth and get nothing but lies.

I look at Walter and he looks back, and though we don't speak I can almost hear our silent conversation in my head:

_"We have to tell them."_

_"No, we don't. They're just kids!"_

_"So am I."_

_"What gives them the right to know?"_

_"What doesn't?"_

_"We have to protect our identity!"_

_"Not from family."_

Walter glares at me for a moment longer, and in the pause we hear Jon speak again. _"You want to save them. But you can't do it alone..."_

Walter's eyes widen with shock. I stare at him, wondering why Jon's words would have triggered such a response. But after a moment, I don't care. Because I can see in his eyes Walter's quiet acceptance. He glances at me and then nods shortly. I nod back and then look around at the others, who have been watching the silent exchange with puzzled eyes.

I feel a prickle of apprehension- it's become so ingrained in my being to keep my identity a secret- but I push it away. Taking a deep breath, I force the words out. "Guys," I say slowly. "We're vigilantes."

Everyone is completely silent for a split second. And then...

"Well, it's about _time _you told us!"

_**Rorschach**_

I am standing on a hill overlooking Lawrence. Everything around me is red, as though it's caught on fire. I feel a jolt of shock as I realize that I am sitting on a horse. Next to me, Cadence is sitting on one, too, and when she turns to look at me her eyes are blazing.

Behind us is the band. But they're all sitting atop horses, too, dressed in their red marching uniforms. All of them are staring at me, their eyes burning just like Cadence's. Some of them carry guns, others carry large daggers. Though I can't tell since they're all covered by their uniforms, I intuitively know that underneath they are skin and bones. No...not skin and bones..._Muscle _and bones. _They look like warriors, _I think to myself.

And then I blink myself awake, and stare, startled, up at the ceiling. Glancing at the alarm clock Cadence loaned me, I realize that I've only been asleep for about twenty minutes. Long enough for me to start dreaming so vividly? Everything had seemed so crystal clear. Perfect clarity. Like a memory.

_No, that's not possible, _I think to myself. _That hasn't happened. _

_Yet. _

His voice startles me. I glare up at the ceiling as though he can see me. _What are you saying, Manhattan? _I growl. I'm still furious with him for asking me to reveal my identity to the drumline.

But...

I had to admit, at the time, there had been an urging in my gut, an _instinct, _to do so. And both Manhattan and my own experience have taught me to trust my instincts. Even if they appear ludicrous at the time.

_I'm saying that what you've just seen _is _a memory, you just haven't experienced it yet. Humans call it deja vu. _

I take a moment to let that sink in. _Are you saying that one of these days I'm going to be sitting on a horse with a bunch of band geeks? _I finally ask flatly.

_Yes, _Manhattan answers calmly. And then his voice takes on an urgent edge, barely noticeable; if I wasn't so used to him by now I probably wouldn't have noticed the change. _It is your job to prepare them for the coming war._

A jolt of shock pierces me. War? I repeat incredulously. Instantly my thoughts flash to Cadence. I remember her on the hill, how her eyes blazed, how she'd just seemed to _fit _in that setting. But I just can't reconcile _my _Cadence with the dream Cadence. She can't fight in a war! I barely allow her to fight on patrol.

_It is Cadence's job, too, _Manhattan interrupts me gently.

Immediately I am furious. _No, _I growl. _I won't let her._

_You can't stop her._

I grit my teeth and let out a feral snarl. _I will _not _let her fight in some war!_

_She won't have a choice. No one will. One day, war will be upon you. And you will need all the help you can get._

I don't know if Manhattan sends it to me or if I think of it myself, but an image of the drumline appears in my brain. I can't ignore it and I can't get rid of it. I see them dressed in their marching uniforms and wearing masks, standing tall and straight and strong, ready for anything.

_Remember, Walter. You don't have a choice, _Manhattan reminds me.

His words infuriate me. I thrust myself from my bed and start rummaging through my drawers for new clothes. It's almost time to meet Cadence and the others down in the garage.

As I walk out of the room, I mutter "Yes, I do" under my breath. But there is a tiny fear deep inside of me that wonders if I really _do _have a choice.

Or if I ever did.

_**Rylie**_

Walter's in a hell of a mood tonight and I think I know why. He's still pissed at me for telling the others about us being vigilantes.

_Well, he can just go and be pissed, _I think to myself as I head out to the trampoline. I know that the drumline would never reveal our secret; they're family.

"Hey, Rylie! Rylie, c'mere!" Eddie hollers from the trampoline. He is surrounded by Jimmy, Damien, and the rest of the drumline, who all look at me with both disbelief and awe. Quietly I wonder what I've done this time.

I look up and lift an eyebrow. "What?"

"Show these guys that you're gangster," he urges me.

I draw back a little. "What do you mean?" I ask slowly.

And he grins at me. "Busta Rylie," he says.

Oh. I get it. I laugh and ignore Walter, who watches from where he leans against the doorframe of the shop. "Yeah, yeah, okay," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

So I rap the really fast part of "Look At Me Now" for them and ignore only one pair of eyes as they study me.

"Man, that is fuckin' impressive," Russell murmurs once I'm done.

I blush and look down at my feet. "Eh, not really."

"Man, you are gangster _and _you're a vigi! You are truly a Renaissance man!" Ross exclaims, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I laugh. "I think in order to be a Renaissance man you first have to be a man."

"Oh, right, you don't have balls."

"No, no, no, she has _lady _balls," Luke corrects him, then nods to me. "She's a fuckin' _vigilante. _She has balls."

"Man, what a way to end your high school career..." Ross murmurs, shaking his head in amazement.

They continue speaking but suddenly I don't hear them. _My last year of high school? _I think to myself in horror. Looking around at all the faces I've come to know and love, I realize with a deep pit in my stomach that this is my last year of band.

I swallow hard. Soon my family will be leaving me. My stomach rolls a little, and a bittersweetness spoils my heart.

Suddenly I'm glad I told them about being a vigilante. Screw Walter. He doesn't own me, and he certainly can't control what I say to my family. If this is the last shot I'll get at being a part of _this _family, then I want to do it thoroughly.

After all, secrets don't make friends.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alrighty, now, I _know _this was a lot of fuzzy warmness, tralala happy jazz, and it was a lot of talking. Don't worry, it won't be like this for much longer! :) But since I've been overdosing you with happy-crappy, I have added a nice antidote to it in "The Night's Journal" if you'd like to feel dark and depressed! :D Happy trails, please review!


	45. Forty Five

NOTE: BIG THANKS to all of you readers who've stuck around this long! I love you all! For this chapter you will need the song "Kyoto" by Skrillex for the fight scene between Walter and the American Ghost, and then "The Difference" by the Wallflowers for Eddie and Rylie's little "adventure" in town. :)

45. Fire in the Sky

_**Rorschach**_

_Walter._

I look up lazily from the book I'm reading and throw a wry glance toward the ceiling. _Yes? _Part of me wishes he wouldn't talk to me right now. Reading is one of the few ways I can disappear from reality; it always has been. And right now, I want nothing more than to forget, for the moment, the looming threat of war, the government, and everything else.

_Cadence is down in the garage._

I blink, quiet for a moment while I wonder why he's telling me something I already know. _...Okay?_

_Someone is there with her. _

I am quiet for another moment, but only because I am letting his words sink in, like cold water trickling through my veins. A heartbeat later, I am on my feet, throwing the book down on my bed and racing down the stairs. Panic has filled me, seized me. Who _is with her? _I demand as I run.

_Someone you know, and someone you will come to know, _Manhattan answers.

I slow, my fingers hesitating over the garage door's handle. The fear fades, to be replaced by irritation. _You couldn't have told me that _before _nearly giving me a heart attack? _I snap. _I thought you meant Cadence was in trouble._

_If that's what I had meant I would have told you._

_No, I don't think you would have. You always speak in goddamn riddles, _I growl, then open the door. _Now, who is it that's here?_

But Manhattan doesn't respond, and even if he had I wouldn't have registered his words. Because when I step into the garage, I _know _who it is. I feel it in my bones, in every nerve ending in my body.

I just can't remember.

_**Rylie**_

It's the last week of summer and I'm in the garage- rearranging the logs of firewood against the wall because I _know _my parents will be pissed if they see the mess Walter and I make with them- when I feel it. A spark in the atmosphere, a tingling along my skin. Glancing down at my arm, I realize that the hair is standing up along its length. I realize what it has to be right as a sudden gust of wind hits me and then disappears.

Looking up, I realize that someone is standing in the driveway, just outside of the open garage door. She is dressed all in black, her dusky brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. Attached to the belt around her waist are two large daggers, one on either side. A mask covers the top half of her face, but it's unlike any other mask I've ever seen before. It's made of intricate chainlink, and she's tied the two cords of leather attached to either side into her ponytail.

I blink, not just startled by her sudden, unexpected appearance but by _her. _She is so familiar...I feel like I know her, but I can't place where. The parts of her face that are exposed look hard, feminine but rough, as though she's weathered many a hard storm in her lifetime. She could be beautiful if she smiled...but something tells me doesn't smile, and maybe never has.

"Rylie?" she says, looking straight at me through the chainlink. I can't really tell what the rest of her face looks like through it since it's woven so tightly and intricately together, but her eyes look dark. Brown, maybe, or possibly blue...

"Yes..." I respond slowly. How does she know my name? And my _nickname, _of all things? Most people who don't know me call me Cadence.

Of course, she must know me. That much is obvious. But how?

She tips her head to one side, still watching me steadily, with eyes that never seem to blink. "I realize this must be a bit of a surprise," she says.

"Um, yeah," I reply, giving her a strange look. "Who are you? Did Dr. Manhattan send you?"

_Yes, _he answers in my head at the same time the mysterious woman nods and says, "Yes."

"Who are you?" I demand.

Her mouth twists into a crooked smile, one devoid of anything close to brightness or happiness. I feel strangely sick seeing this expression on her face- what could have happened to her to make her this...jaded? "I think it's best if you don't know my name," she says. "For now, just call me Ghost."

I stare at her suspiciously. "Why can't I know your name?" There is something about her...her name...her outfit...Suddenly, it falls into place. I gasp and I stare at her in shock. "You're the American Ghost, aren't you?" She just stares back at me silently, and that is answer enough.

Back in the day, when vigilantes were still legal, the American Ghost had been around. She had worked solo in New York for a short time, until she'd completely disappeared. There were many rumors surrounding her- that she'd been killed off by gang members, that the government had picked her off, even one that she had been abducted by aliens. There was also the one where she simply became another identity, another vigi. But no one truly knew.

"What are you doing here?" I finally ask breathlessly. But before she can answer, the door opens and I turn to see Walter standing in the doorway. He is staring at the Ghost with a look of shock and disbelief on his face. There is nostalgia in his eyes. I furrow my brows. Did he know the American Ghost in the past? They were vigilantes at around the same time, but I never read any articles about them knowing each other. I look back at the Ghost to see if I can read her expression.

But hers is even more startling than his. Her mouth is open, half-shocked, half-expectant. There is the hint of a smile- a _pure _one- on her lips. _She knows him, _I realize. I clench my jaw and ball my hands into tight fists. _And she _likes _him, _I also realize.

I am surprised by how much this realization pisses me off. There is a burning inside of me, a protectiveness that borders on possessiveness. She can't _know _him, she can't _like _him. Maybe in a different time and a different place, but not now. _Now he's _mine, I think with a little snarl.

A moment later, I shake my head, shocked by my feelings. Why should I care if she likes him, if they once had a partnership, or a friendship, or a...a _relationship_? _Right. None of my business, _I think with a disinterested little sniff.

But I'm not as distinterested as I wish I was.

Her half-smile has become a full-fledged grin. "Hello, Rorschach," she greets him.

Walter stiffens and his eyes flash blue fire. "Who are you?" he automatically demands, stalking over to stand at my side.

The smile never leaves her face, but maybe it becomes just a little more jaded again, a little more wry. I turn to Walter and murmur, "She's the American Ghost, Walter. Jon sent her."

He turns back to the Ghost, refusing to relax at this explanation. "Why are you here?"

The Ghost nods to me. "I'm here to train her," she replies.

I draw back- _train me? _I exchange a quick glance with Walter, who turns back to the Ghost with a hard glare. "Well, you're too late. _I'm _training her," he growls, a little possessively.

The Ghost just shakes her head, laughing a little. It's a harsh sound, but it's so damn familiar, as though underneath, there is a softer sound waiting to make itself known... "No, no, I don't mean train her to fight with her body. I mean with these," she explains, touching her hip where the dagger rests.

"_Swords?" _I squeak out in shock, feeling my stomach twist a little. How can I fight with those?

She smirks wryly and nods. "I had the exact same reaction when I started learning," she says, and chuckles, as though enjoying some inside joke. "But don't worry. I _know _you'll do fine."

"Wait, wait, wait," Walter interrupts sharply, holding up his hands. "Who even said she was going to learn? She hasn't agreed to anything," he growls, stepping in front of me protectively.

"Manhattan did," she replies steadily, unshaken.

_I did, _Jon agrees, and I know he's speaking to Walter, too, because I feel him stiffen next to me.

He grits his teeth. "How do I know you're _qualified _to teach her properly?" he snarls.

I elbow him sharply in the side and glare at him. "Walter, she's a vigilante!" I hiss to him. I realize there's a note of desperation to my voice because I know what he's going to do, and I really wish he wouldn't.

But the Ghost just smiles. This smile isn't like any of the rest; it's dark, filled with a grim, satisfactory gleam, as though she's _relishing _the challenge. "No, no. He's right. I should prove my worth," she says.

"Fine. _Prove your worth,_" Walter sneers. "Fight me. Then we'll see if you should train her."

I bite my lip, feeling a tightening in my gut. I don't like this. I don't like that nearly fanatical gleam in her eye. "Wait, wait," I say quickly before either of them can move. I point to the Ghost's swords. "Take those off first. I don't want you getting any ideas. I want this to be a _clean fight," _I say, glaring at the Ghost sternly.

She simply grins back. "Whatever you say, _Northpaw," _she agrees, and then starts to unbuckle her belt.

Gaping, Walter and I exchange a glance, blindsided. _How did she know my nickname? _Walter starts to say something, probably to question her, but I shake my head at him and he falls silent. We can ask later. _Maybe Jon told her, _I reason with myself, but I'm still unsettled by how much she seems to know.

Once her swords are lying in a corner of the garage, the Ghost turns back to us and claps her hands together. "Right. So. Whoever forces the other to the floor for five seconds wins. Sound fair?"

Walter nods stiffly. "Sounds fair," he agrees, then looks at me. "Cadence, get out of the way."

I stay where I am for a moment, shifting from foot to foot uncertainly. It feels wrong to let Walter fight someone on his own; I feel like I should be there. He glares at me, prepared to snap out a quick order again, but he must see the panic on my face because his blue eyes soften slightly. "Go, Cadence. It's not a real fight. I'll be fine," he assures me. After another heartbeat of hesitation, I shuffle off to the side reluctantly, sitting down on the single step leading up to the utility room door.

It starts off as more of a boxing match than anything else, both of them dancing around each other in a tight circle, exchanging light, glancing blows. Testing each other out, like we do when we start a sparring session. But the dance gets steadily faster, steadily fiercer, until I am on the edge of my seat, almost unable to keep myself from jumping into the fight to help.

Because she is _good. _She's fast, smooth, and dangerous, every bit as skilled as Walter. They are equally matched and it makes me nervous. I've never seen Walter bested, but I'm terrified that today might be the day.

Suddenly, the circling ends. Walter strikes out, his fist aimed for her face. Quick as the strike of a snake, the Ghost ducks under and delivers her own swift punch. This one lands on his chin, and the force of it snaps his head back so fast and hard that he bends backward for a moment. Quickly he recovers, raising his arm up in time to block another blow. Shoving her arm to the side, he brings his other elbow up and slams it into her face.

But she flows with the movement, absorbing it, and then moves fast back toward him. For a moment, she forces him back with the ferocity of her savage blows, and I wince every time she hits him.

Finally, though, he starts to force her back and I nod frantically. I realize that I'm coaching him in my head, silently whispering the moves that _I _would deliver if I were him. _Up, left arm, kick, yes, yes! _

I have never seen a fight like this before. They are spinning around each other, twirling, dancing, and graceful. They are both covered in sweat and blood, but they remain steady, strong, and aggressive. She is a damn bulldog, but Walter is junkyard mean. I know he can hold his own.

But as the fight progresses, I am not sure he can _win. _I'm not sure _either _of them can win. They are perfectly, evenly matched, and a small part of me wonders how _anyone _could possibly train enough to become Walter's equal.

The fight builds, reaches climax, peaks, rises, and peaks again. My heart is pounding with its rhythm, thumping with each punch, stuttering with each swing. They move so fast I lose track sometimes of who threw what punch.

When it begins to slow, when they step apart for a moment, I am partly glad. Glad because it will give Walter a short reprieve. But only partly, because it gives me a chance to see the damage the Ghost has done. He is bleeding from a cut on his eye and his cheek. His bottom lip is split, too, leaking blood into his mouth. The knuckles on both of his hands are bruised and bleeding, and there is a large bruise flowering darkly just below his right knee.

Turning to the Ghost, I see with a fierce satisfaction that blood is dripping from her nose, and that she is limping slightly. Both of them are breathing heavily, covered in sweat, but they keep their eyes fixed tightly on each other, unaware of everything else, completely single-minded.

They begin to circle again. My heart rate increases with each step until I worry it might burst from stress. Once again they are twirling. The Ghost throws a punch but Walter grabs her arm and swings her around. She slams into the wall of the garage, but ducks out of the way just in time to avoid Walter's foot, which arcs up toward her jaw. Dancing back around him, she swings her entire body in an arc, keeping her elbow out, and tries to catch him on the cheek. He curves out of the way, though, managing to stay balanced though he is bent halfway over.

They spin around each other. One blow to the Ghost's stomach, one blow to Walter's back. Then, suddenly, the Ghost is twirling in mid-air, having leapt fantastically into the air over Walter's head. When she lands, her legs splay out to balance her as she skids backward. I feel my lungs twist with panic when I realize that she's just jumped directly into the corner where her swords are.

I leap to my feet, but before I can move to do anything the sword's in her hand with a sharp flash, and Walter is on the ground under her. The tip of the sword rests gently on his throat. He glares up at her, breathing heavily but staying still. She smiles down at him soothingly as she counts out loud. "One...two...three...four...five. Well, well. Looks like I win," she says.

Burning with resentment and fear and anger, I hesitantly approach her, unwilling to make her do anything rash with a sudden movement. "Get that fucking sword away from his neck," I growl, glaring at her dangerously.

She shrugs and steps away from him. "Sure," she agrees easily, grinning as I scoot in between the two of them and extend my hand to Walter.

"Are you alright?" I whisper to him as I pull him to his feet.

"Yes," he replies, but I see him wince as though in pain.

I hate this woman. I hate her and I wish she would leave. But Jon sent her, and he must know that someday I'll need the training she'll give me. Glowering frostily at the Ghost, I thrust Walter off to the side. "Alright. You've proved you can fight. So train me so we can get this over with," I growl.

She nods to me briskly, still grinning in that way I despise. "Great." Then she turns to Walter. "You should probably go inside and get yourself fixed up," she tells him.

But he stays where he is, sitting on the same step I had when I'd watched them fight. His eyes flash furiously, blazing. "You don't tell me what to do," he snaps. Then he looks directly at me. "I'm staying here. Just in case," he says meaningfully. I nod to him, knowing what he's saying- he'll stay here in case I need help.

The Ghost just shrugs. "Whatever you want. Here, Rylie. Take this," she says, holding out one of her swords. Reluctantly, I take it. "Now, Rylie. What you need to remember most of all during this training is that the sword is not just an instrument, or a weapon. It is an extension of yourself."

I nod, though I wish she would just shut up. I don't care about anything she's telling me and I wish she would just go back to where she came from. But I listen like a good little student, while Walter watches and the day grows old.

_~r.~_

The American Ghost comes everyday for the next week to train me, and she trains me _hard. _She's about as obsessive over training as Walter is, and she's much less sympathetic, which I never thought was possible. It's as though she _wants _to see me break down and cry. She doesn't ever give me breaks, not even in the dead heat. Walter- who refuses to let her train me without him there as a referee- always insists she does, but she never listens.

On the third day, I had to run out of the garage and throw up just because the heat and the exertion got to me. I hadn't known Walter was there, holding my hair back, until the retching stopped. He'd quickly pulled his hands away as I looked up, but stayed where he was, looking at me in concern. "Are you alright?" he'd murmured.

"Oh, yeah. I enjoy puking," I had replied, giving him a weak smile.

"I mean do you feel cold?" he'd asked quietly, then pressed his hands to my face.

I'd known what he was referring to- heat stroke. But I hadn't felt cold. Just disgusting. "No, I'm fine. Scout's honor," I'd added when he hadn't looked convinced. He'd given me a disparaging look but I had ignored him and gone back to the Ghost, who was waiting impatiently.

On Friday, though, something changes in our pattern. When the Ghost gets here, she is subdued. Her lip is split and I can just barely see a black eye behind her chainlink mask.

Though there is a part of me that fiercely enjoys this sight, there is another part of me- the sweet side of my inner Sour Patch Kid, I suppose- that is alarmed by this, too. "What happened to you?" I can't help asking.

"Life, kid," she replies. "It'll give you hell. Trust me."

I watch her for a long moment. There's something about the way she says this...as though she's talking about _me _specifically, about _my life..._

"This will be the last day I train you. And it'll only be a half-day if I remember correctly, so we'd better get started."

I blink, jolted from my thoughts. "What do you mean it'll only be a half-day?" I inquire. She's right- I had been planning on asking her to cut it short today because Eddie's coming over- but how had she known?

She shrugs. "Manhattan told me. Now grab a sword and let's get started," she mutters.

We train until one, and the Ghost seems to be in a hurry. "Alright, I think we should call it a day," she finally says all of a sudden, snatching the sword right from my hand.

I stare at her, surprised. "Okay..?"

"Sorry, kid, I'm just in a little bit of a hurry. Thanks for letting me train you," she spits out in a rush, thrusting the daggers back into their sheaths on her belt.

"Rylie. Who's this?"

All of us turn in unison to see Eddie, standing in the doorway of the garage. He stares at the Ghost in confusion and hesitance. There is something in his eyes...something familiar...it takes me a moment, but then I realize what it is. It had been in Walter's eyes when he'd first seen her, too- nostalgia. I shake my head in disbelief. What is going on here? Why do all of us feel like we know this woman?

Turning back to her, I feel a jolt of pure emotion run through me. Not just surprise, although her expression definately surprises me, but _sorrow. _Because _her _face is stricken, her mouth open slightly in shock, almost like she's just had the air knocked out of her. And it's almost like I can feel her distraught sadness, it's that potent.

"Eddie. This is the American Ghost. Manhattan sent her to train Cadence," Walter explains quietly when I don't respond.

Eddie blinks. "Train her? Really?" He looks at me in surprise.

I nod, tearing my gaze from the Ghost. "Yeah. She's been training me for a week. Teaching me sword fighting," I tell him absently, still feeling strangely hollow. As though something has been taken from me, something irreplaceable and vital.

He lifts his eyebrows. "And you're only just now telling me this?" he replies. I hear the trace of irritation in his voice so I give him an apologetic glance.

"Sorry. We've both just been so busy lately." And that's partly the truth. But in reality, it's mostly because I wanted to keep Eddie from the Ghost. She seems dangerous to me, toxic almost, and I just didn't want Eddie to be in the same room with the woman who defeated Walter in battle.

"I really must be going," the Ghost says suddenly, but her voice sounds strangled and thick. When I turn back to her, I feel my entire body turn to ice. A single tear runs down her cheek, which she tries to hide by turning away. "Good-bye, Rylie, Walter...Eddie."

And then, in a sudden flash of blue, she disappears.

We all are silent for a few moments and then Eddie sighs. "Well, that was weird," he states.

I nod, still staring at the place where the Ghost had been. "Yeah..."

"So, you ready to go stir shit up?" Eddie inquires, nudging me with his elbow. His tone is teasing, but when I look at him I realize that he can tell something's wrong with me. Of course. He knows me so well.

So I force a smile and nod. "Always."

He nods, smiling back. "Alright." Heading over to the utility room, he reaches up to press the button that opens the main garage door.

"Shall I start getting things ready?" Walter inquires wryly.

"Well, I don't know...can you cook?" I reply.

He shrugs. "I used to fend for myself pretty well as a child."

Eddie elbows him in the side, grinning. "Thought you weren't ever a child," he jokes. I blink; he's in a good mood.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I say child? I meant a shorter version of myself," Walter replies.

"I don't think that's possible."

Walter rolls his eyes and heads inside. "Don't get into _too _much trouble," he hollers over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him.

Eddie grins and claps his hand together, turning to me. "So. Ready?"

I grin back at him, feeling myself relax in his presence. The hollow feeling disappears and I suddenly feel like the outside world- blue sky, shining sun, brilliant warmth. It feels like summer inside of me.

I nod. "Let's do this."

Eddie drives us into town, the windows rolled down and the music blasting through the speakers. We sing loudly along to The Wallflowers and Sublime, enjoying the summer air and our closeness. This feels good after such a long, exhausting week. Eddie is like coming home.

We head straight for one of the fireworks stands on the edge of town. There's no one there, but they haven't bothered to move any of their fireworks simply because its in an enclosed area- barbed wire fence and the whole jag. Parking the car, Eddie grins at me. "Ready to put some of that vigilante skill to use?"

I snort. "I don't even need it. I'm too badass."

Quickly we scramble over the fence, leaping skillfully over the barbed wire at the top like Walter taught us. We are fast and efficient, stealing as much as we can. We stuff the smaller firecrackers into our backpacks, but it takes us several trips to get a few boxes of actual fireworks into the truck. Once we're finished, however, we peel out; we don't want to risk getting caught before we've even really started.

Next we stop at a gas station, one infamous among our group. This is the gas station that fired Jimmy because he started dating Damien; they hadn't wanted to be associated with a homosexual. Up until this point, we had all refused to go to this gas station. Now, Eddie and I pull into their small parking lot and I empty all of my firecrackers into the backseat. "Remember. Monster, but none of that original crap. I want the coffee kind," I mutter to Eddie as we both throw on a hat and some sunglasses.

"Whatever, boss," he replies, then grabs my backpack and darts out the door.

"Wait, wait!" I holler, and he stops midway to the store.

"What?"

I don't respond, just motion to him to come back. He sighs dramatically and stands, arms crossed over his chest, watching as I bend over and start tearing off his front license plate. "What are you doing?" he demands.

"Well, I just thought it would be nice if they _didn't _have a way to convict us," I mutter in response. "Go get the back one."

He obeys, muttering something about being "over-paranoid", and once we've tossed the plates into the truckbed we head inside. The old guy working at the counter instantly looks angry, as though he wishes kids like us wouldn't come into his store, but we avoid his gaze and head immediately to the back.

"Okay, you go grab all the stuff you want, then come back here when you're done and throw it in," I murmur to Eddie, pointing to the backpack.

He nods. "Right."

"Quick as you can, alright? I don't really feel like getting arrested today."

"You worry too much."

I wait impatiently in the corner of the convenience store, pretending to look at gum, while Eddie gathers up all of our provisions. When he finally returns to me, I have the backpack open and ready for him. "Alright, as soon as all the shit's in here we need to run cuz I think that old dude's getting suspicious," he mutters to me.

I nod, and once Eddie's crammed all of the stuff into the backpack, we exchange one last excited grin, then leap into action. Speeding through the tiny convenience store, we dart out the door and into the truck, ignoring the old bag's protests behind us. Grinning, Eddie shifts into reverse. "Hold onto your seat," he says to me, then guns the car so fast I leave my stomach behind.

The truck swings around, and Eddie shifts back into drive mid-swing, so that by the time we're in the turn lane we are facing the correct direction and everything. We speed out of town as fast as we dare to go, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves but also unwilling to slow down.

As soon as we hit the city limits, we cheer, high-fiving each other. "Oh, dude, we are fuckin' _beastly, _do you know that?" I crow, feeling nearly blissful with exhileration. My face is stretched into a grin so wide that I feel like it might split open.

"Bonnie and Clyde, baby," Eddie agrees, grinning from ear-to-ear.

When we get home, Jimmy and Damien are already there, helping Walter in the kitchen. "Hey, guys. Did you get the stuff?" Jimmy exclaims, hopping over to us as we step inside.

I laugh, handing him the my backpack. "You make it sound like we were out buying drugs."

"Well, we all know you're a junkie," he mutters, practically burying his head in the bag. When he looks up, he gives me a disgruntled look. "Where are the fireworks?" he demands.

"They're still in the truck. Jesus, did you really think we could fit all of them into the backpack?" I reply, rolling my eyes.

"You guys come help me unload them. We'll store 'em in the shop until it's time," Eddie says, leading Jimmy and Damien outside.

I head over to Walter, who is stirring something on the stove. Leaning against the counter, I look up at him expectantly. "So. Whatcha' makin'?" I inquire.

"Ramen. And Jimmy and Damien made a veggie tray," he answers and then smiles, as though he can guess what I'm about to say.

"Oh, so you can cook, huh?"

"I never claimed to be a chef. Just that I knew how to operate a stove."

"Right. I called you on your bullshit and you know it."

"As only you can do, dear Cadence," he drawls sardonically, and then he gives me a look. "So. What all did you steal?"

"Well, fireworks, of course. And then Eddie stole all the good shit, so I'm not exactly sure. But I'd be willing to bet it's sweet, sugary goodness," I reply.

"Oh, great."

"Hey, you're a sugar junkie just as much as the rest of us."

"Yes, but I'm not a hyperactive teenager."

"No, you're just a hyperactive hobo."

"Oh, come off it, Rylie. When have you ever seen him hyper?" Eddie tosses from the kitchen door.

I think about that for a moment. "True."

Once the Ramen is done, we all gather at the kitchen table and eat our makeshift dinner while watching our current favorite show- Ridiculousness. Day fades while we laugh at the completely stupid things people do, but when twilight arrives we all exchange a group look. Without a word, we all leap into action. Eddie gets the truck started while the rest of us head out to the shop and load the fireworks back into the truckbed. Then, piling into the truckbed ourselves, we drive down to McLouth, the little country town closeby.

I give directions to an old, disused baseball diamond just northwest of the town and when we pull up there, we hop into action immediately. It's been a wet summer this year, so we don't worry about anything catching fire; things'll be too damp to catch. So we set up the fireworks and then Eddie and I head up to light the first one.

He looks at me before he strikes the lighter and smiles. "First one for good luck, yeah?" he murmurs.

I grin at him. "Light up the night, baby."

So he lights the fuse, and then we race back as far as we can before it goes off. The explosion is deafening, the sudden flare of light brilliant. Our eyes trail the fantastic tail of light as it climbs higher and higher into the sky, and then our eyes widen in wonder at the explosion. We let that one sit for a minute, so it can soak into the night, and then Eddie and I rush back to the fireworks to light them.

We don't waste time with theatrics this time; we light them all. And the effect is magnificent. Color and brightness fill the night, like neon on a black canvas background. It's brilliant and wonderful, and we all laugh and dance, filled with neon ourselves. We light our smaller fireworks underneath the fire in the sky, leaping and jumping around them, all except for Walter, who simply watches.

On the Fourth of July, it rained. It was like the Second Coming of Christ type of rain. So, as a result, there were no fireworks shows like usual. All of us were sorely disappointed, as it was tradition for us to drive up the lane and watch them.

It was Eddie's idea, of course, to have our _own _fireworks show, which Walter, of course, disapproved of at first. But I managed to convince him, and so that's how this night was born.

When the fantastic glow of the last firework fades to smoke and nothing, and the silence falls, heavy, around us, we slow to a stop, breathing heavily. Our smiles don't fade, however, they simply become bittersweet, content with the fire's end. Silently, we all pile into the truck and drive home.

None of us says anything. Not even when Eddie takes a detour and drives up the lane, like so many nights before us on the _real_ Fourth of July. He stops in our usual spot, under the wide expanse of inky night sky and cold pinpoints of stars, and comes to join us in the back of the truck, turning up his stereo before he leaves just enough so that we can hear it.

Looking up at the stars- the _quiet _fire in the sky- we sing along to the 80s CD that Eddie's playing and provide our own brilliance to the night.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Originally this chapter didn't exist, but the ideas in it did. I, for one, am pretty glad I wrote this chapter, though; I think it turned out nicely, if I may be so bold. Now, enough tooting my own horn! Review, please, and eat cookies, for they are the food of gods! :D


	46. Chapter 46

46. Love is an Apology

_**Rylie**_

It's raining and I'm cold, shivering in the thin covering my uniform provides. I guess I could have gone somewhere to hide from the rain, but I'm waiting for Rorschach and I want to be sure he's safe.

He had told me to wait outside while he and Eddie took care of the men inside the warehouse. When I'd argued, he'd told me that if any of the men escaped, he was depending on _me _to catch them.

He was depending on me, so of course I hadn't argued after that.

Jimmy and Damien are holding the other entrance on the other side of the building, probably just as cold and soaking wet as I am. I wonder briefly if anyone's escaped on their side, but it's not long before I start thinking about Rorschach. Again.

When the door slams open, I am taken by surprise. I jump, startled, and turn just in time to see the flash of the gun as it fires.

There is no pain at first. It just registers as a burning in my chest so white-hot it's almost cold.

And then comes the pain.

I scream, but it comes out as a gasp.

Dimly, I register someone calling my name but there is a ringing in my ears and I can't hear properly. I barely feel it when I hit the pavement; my spine takes the force of impact, but that pain is nothing compared to the searing heat in my chest.

My vision blurs for a few moments, wavers in and out of consciousness. And then, like a whisper, I hear him in my voice, soft at first but gaining strength- Rorschach.

No. Walter. He has become Walter just for me.

I open my eyes and see him staring back at me. Just a swirl of black and white, but in my head I can see what he's seeing, and it's my eyes. Only my eyes, like nothing else matters.

"Cadence!" His voice comes out as an urgent bark, and it's the most scared I've ever heard him sound before. One arm wraps around my shoulders, holding me up. It's only then that I realize that blood has been pooling at the back of my mouth- when he lifts me up, it comes gushing from my mouth and spills onto my chest.

I blink, trying to make the world stop spinning, and focus on the patch of blood I've just vomited up. It's strangely beautiful. Red like rubies.

"_Cadence! _Look at me!"

I look back at Walter and watch as he reaches for his face, preparing to peel it off.

"No!" I protest, but it comes out as more of a bloody cough. My hand flashes out and grabs his, surprisingly strong. I can feel him staring at me, desperate and pleading and terrified, and I wish I could comfort him.

But the truth is all I can give him.

I smile at him and stroke his face soothingly; I leave bright red smears across the furiously swirling black and white surface. "Walter," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Then my smile grows wider. "Brick Wall."

"_Rylie!_"

The sound of Eddie's agonized cry pierces me like a knife in my heart, and I whip my head up immediately to find him. He rushes over to us and kneels down next to me. "Rylie, no," he cries, and the sound of his sob feels even worse in my chest.

"Eddie," I murmur and reach out for him. Walter doesn't move, although Eddie leans toward me and they are so close they are resting against each other.

Eddie's arms envelope me tightly, and I wince as the pain in my chest intensifies. "It's okay," I hear him murmur in my ear. "You're gonna be okay."

His words make me laugh, even though it hurts like hell to do so. He leans away, still holding me by my shoulders. I smile back at him and shake my head. "You and I both know I'm going to die," I say.

Pain so fierce I feel like I might be devoured by it fills his eyes, and he shakes me just as fiercely. "Don't you dare say that, Rylie," he snarls. But the tears in his voice weaken his words.

"Eddie," I soothe. "Eddie."

It takes me several tries to calm him down, and when I finally do, the tears are falling so thickly down his face I doubt he can even see me anymore. Gently, I wipe them away, leaving trails of blood across his cheeks. Slowly, he lowers his head into my chest, the side without the bullet.

"Don't leave me," he sobs into my shoulder, holding me in trembling arms.

"Shh," I continue to soothe him, stroking his hair lightly. Over his shoulder, I see that Walter still has not moved. He hasn't even removed his arm from around my shoulder. He just continues to stare at me, watching me as though watching a car crash- he can't look away.

"I'm sorry," I mouth at him, unwilling to say it out loud. And I am. This is exactly the kind of thing he's been warning me about since day one.

He doesn't respond, doesn't give any indication that he heard me. But I hear my words in his mind as though I spoke them aloud, and I know that he understood.

A low moan from Eddie draws my attention. "_Shit, _Rylie, _please _stay with me!" he pleads, leaning away to stare beseechingly into my eyes.

But the wound in my chest is fast bleeding out my life- I can feel it leaving me now, like a physical, tangible thing, and _my God _I am tired. This is the one thing I can't do for Eddie, even though I want to. I reach out to press my bloody palm against the back of Eddie's head and pull him closer to me so that our foreheads rest together.

"I'm not going anywhere, Eddie," I murmur. "I promise. It's just that it won't be as easy for you to see me."

"_No!_" he moans, but I interrupt him.

"Eddie, you have to promise me. Promise me you'll deal with this. I know you can, you're strong. Stronger than you think you are," I continue, more intensely this time.

He starts to shake his head. "I can't, Rylie, I can't, I can't."

"You _can,_" I press, and then wince as a shard of pain lances through me. Time is running out. I have more things to say, and so little time left. I have no inhibitions left; what can anything do to me now? So I lean forward and kiss him- not on the lips, as I've dreamt of so many times, but on the forehead. Because I've realized in that moment that I can't kiss him anymore. It's not him that I'm in love with.

"Please, Eddie. Be a good boy and promise me," I beg, pleading now because the drowsiness is spreading and my head is becoming foggy.

Even though I can tell he wants to argue more, there is a resignation in his eyes. No, not a resignation. An emptiness. I wince and pray to God that someday soon, that emptiness will be filled. I mean, honestly, how much of a void could I possibly leave in him?

He leans away but sticks close, allowing Walter more room. I'm thankful that they're both not so loathing of each other that my death can bring them together.

I smile at Walter and hold out my arms; they are shaking like crazy but I manage to keep them under sufficient control.

He doesn't hesitate this time. With total abandon, his arms envelope me and we embrace tightly- not for the first time, but certainly for the last. His breath is hot in my ear as he whispers, in a quivering, terrified voice, "Cadence, I can't do this without you."

I shake my head and laugh weakly, leaning away to look at him. "Of course you can, you idiot. You've been doing this without me for years," I chide lightly.

But he shakes his head, and I am reminded of a scared little boy. I wish so badly that I could hold him and tell him that everything will be alright. But I couldn't lie to myself, and I certainly couldn't lie to him.

"Cadence. I can't."

"Oh, Southpaw. Of course you can. You were born a fighter. You'll always be a fighter. Losing me isn't going to change that," I say and then I sigh. The pain has pretty much faded by now. Actually, almost everything is fading, quickly now. Exhaustion sweeps over me. But there is one last thing that needs to be said.

Slowly, carefully, I reach out to grab Walter's face in my hands. I don't have to see his face to know when I've found his eyes; they burn into mine so fiercely I'm surprised my eyes haven't caught fire.

"Walter," I say, in a voice as slow and careful as my hands. And then I say it. The thing I've been meaning to say since the first moment I meant him. What I was born to say, probably. Cheesy, yeah. But when you're dying, things become just a tad more dramatic.

"I love you."

The flare of emotion within Walter is so strong, so powerful, that for a moment I wonder if I've just been struck by lightning again. But, no, it's just him. Just his heart, beating in time with my broken meter, matching mine pace for pace.

Rorschach is silent. I am surprised. I was expecting a fight, but there is nothing. Not the least bit of resistance when Walter, in a voice that wavers and breaks, says, "I...love you, too." It sounds strange, almost like a question, and I hear the absolute fear in his voice as he says it. Rorschach may not be putting up a fight, but it's not like admitting something like love would ever be easy for him.

I grin at him tiredly. "Good. I was hoping you'd say it back," I murmur and then sigh. "Sorry it's so late."

"Don't you ever be sorry," Walter snaps fiercely; when he reaches out to cup my face, his fingers dig into my skin, probably leaving bruises. Or maybe so much blood has been drained from my face that there won't be any bruises.

I shrug weakly and continue to grin. "Sorry."

Walter pauses for a moment and then his eyes soften. I feel the memory in his head and smile wider; the first day we met, when I'd apologized for running into him. . "You apologize too much," he murmurs. "And I accept."

"Well, good," I murmur, and then close my eyes. I've said all I need to say.

The only warning I get is the warmth of breath upon my lips. Then, in a hesitant, trembling way, Walter is kissing me. My eyes flash open and my heart stutters weakly in my chest. It is so chaste, so fearful. A virgin's kiss.

I smile against his lips. This is the only kiss I will ever get from him, and it took death to get it out of him. Oh, well. Better late than never.

When he pulls away, I see my face in his mind and though it is pale with death, my eyes are shining. "Thank you," I tell him.

He dips his head to me. "Of course, Northpaw," he replies.

And that's it. My lids are too heavy now to hold up. I've held on for as long as I can, but it was long enough.

When I close my eyes, they don't open again.

_**Rorschach**_

Rains when they bury Cadence. Poetic part of me likes to think sky is mourning for her, too.

Would really like to snap that pathetic part of me in half.

Eddie doesn't speak to anyone but me anymore. Strange turn of events. Only friends because Cadence is dead.

Won't matter much longer, however. Nothing here for me anymore. Nothing matters.

Leave on a Saturday night. Three weeks since Cadence died. Walter is gone now. Just Rorschach, but that's fine. Stronger than Walter could ever be.

"When will you be back, Rorschach?" Daniel asks, leaning out of front door. He knows not to call me Walter now. Not ever.

Rain patters down onto my shoulders. Part of me thinks of Coke bottles, but quickly reject the memory.

"Won't be," I reply and turn away.

"Wait, what?" Shock evident in Daniel's voice, as well as worry. Hurm. Could never let go of emotions.

"Good-bye, Daniel," I say and start walking.

"Rorschach, wait!" he calls after me. Don't know why I stop, but do. Turn to him slowly, warily. Follows me out into rain. Watch it drip from glasses he has yet again adopted.

Pain in his eyes. Ignore it. "What about the Resistance Movement? What about the government and all that we've been working for?" There is a pause. Know what he's going to say before he does, but still can't believe my ears. "What about Cadence and-"

"Don't say her name," I hiss, spit venom from between my teeth. Daniel knows never to say her name. Ever.

Holds his hands up. Hold back a snort of contempt. Could never stop surrendering, either. "Sorry," he says. "But what about all that we've done? What about saving the world?"

Sounds like a naive child. Could never save the world. No one could. Stupid to try. I turn away.

"World can burn for all I care," I toss over my shoulder. "Nothing here for me now. Good-bye, Daniel." This time, Daniel stays silent and doesn't follow. Smart of him.

Don't know where I'm going. Been lost before. Hoping to become lost again.

Far from here...far from here is salvation, so far it's out of reach. So am I. And in the end, there is this truth...

Nothing ends. Ever.

I dread this and I embrace it.


End file.
